Chapter 6 - The Flushing Warehouse
The rain was a silver curtain falling over the industrial wasteland of Flushing, Queens. Inside a derelict iron foundry that had once manufactured locomotive parts, forty men in dark leather coats stood in a semi-circle beneath the dim yellow glow of a single halogen work light.
In the center of the ring, tied to a heavy steel chair, was Tommy Vance. His face was a mess of dark purple bruises and dried blood, his breath coming in short, rattling gasps.
The heavy iron doors of the warehouse groaned open.
Lorenzo Rossi walked in, followed by Mateo and six armed guards. He didn't look like the grieving father from the third-floor nursery anymore; he looked like the God of the Underworld walking through his kingdom. His black leather coat was unbuttoned, revealing the silver grip of his custom pistol against his ribs.
He walked over to the chair, standing directly in front of the shivering man.
"L-Lorenzo," Tommy croaked, trying to lift his head, his teeth stained red. "Listen to me... it’s a mistake. The Morettis... they paid me to drop the note. They said they’d clear my tab if I just scared the girl. I didn't know she was yours. I swear to God, I didn't know!"
Lorenzo didn't answer. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small, silver lighter, and sparked the flame, his eyes watching the yellow light dance in the damp air of the warehouse.
"She wasn't mine when you pushed her down the stairs, Tommy," Lorenzo said, his voice so quiet the men at the back of the room had to lean forward to hear it. "She was just a mother carrying a child. A child who never got to see the sun because of you."
Tommy’s eyes widened in pure, unadulterated terror as he realized his mistake. "Please... please, Rossi! I didn't mean to hurt the kid! It was an accident! We were fighting!"
"Every action has a price, Tommy," Lorenzo said, closing the lighter with a sharp, definitive click. He turned his back to the chair, walking toward the exit. "Mateo."
"Yeah, boss?"
"The Moretti family wants a war because they think I’ve lost my edge," Lorenzo said, pausing near the heavy iron doors. "Give them Tommy’s body as our official reply. Drop it on the steps of their social club in Brooklyn before the sun comes up. Let them know that anyone who touches the Rossi house will be dissected piece by piece."
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"Consider it done," Mateo said, a cold, empty smile appearing on his lips as he reached into his jacket for his knife.
Lorenzo walked out into the rain, his mind already leaving the blood behind as he thought of the quiet, white corridor on Long Island where his son was waiting for his next feeding. The beast was fully awake now, and it had something new to protect.
