Chapter 3 - Cracks in the Armor
The air inside the warehouse at Pier 42 was thick with the smell of diesel fuel and saltwater.
Dominic Rossi stood beside a stack of wooden crates, chewing on an unlit cigar, flanked by six imposing men in heavy leather jackets. When Adrian stepped out of the shadows, accompanied only by Lucas, Dominic’s lips curled into a slick, false smile.
“Adrian!” Dominic bellowed, spreading his arms wide. “We were starting to think you weren't coming. Word on the street is you’ve been spending your afternoons playing family man in some trashy Brooklyn diner.”
The men behind Dominic chuckled softly. Lucas reached toward his jacket, but Adrian raised a single finger, stopping him instantly.
“The shipping manifests for next month are missing five container slots, Dominic,” Adrian said, his voice deadly calm as he walked toward his underboss. “Care to explain where those slots went?”
Dominic’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “Just a little side business, Adrian. A friend in Miami needed some undocumented cargo moved. We used to do business like that all the time before you went soft.”
“We do business the way I say we do business,” Adrian said, stopping three feet from Dominic. “And we don't bring federal heat onto our docks.”
Dominic spat his cigar onto the concrete floor. “You’re getting paranoid in your old age, Boss. Ever since that dropped envelope three weeks ago, you’ve been looking at me like I’m a snake.”
“Are you a snake, Dominic?”
“I’m the guy keeping this family rich while you waste your time eating pie served by a broke waitress!” Dominic snapped, taking a step forward. “People are talking, Adrian. They say the head of the Moretti family is getting weak. They say a little girl owns his leash.”
Before Dominic’s men could even register the movement, Adrian closed the distance. His right hand snapped out, catching Dominic by the throat and driving him backward into a metal container pillar with a deafening CRASH.
Dominic choked, his eyes bulging as Adrian held him pinned off the floor with one hand. Dominic’s men immediately drew their pistols, but Lucas had already pulled two silenced handguns, aiming them precisely between the lead guard’s eyes.
“Listen to me very carefully, Dominic,” Adrian whispered into his underboss’s ear, his voice icy enough to freeze blood. “You talk about my business again, and I’ll throw you into the Hudson River wrapped in anchor chains. You touch that diner, or anyone inside it, and I won't just kill you—I’ll erase every trace that you ever existed.”
Adrian let go. Dominic collapsed onto his knees, gasping violently for air and clutching his neck.
“Get out of my sight,” Adrian growled.
Dominic scrambled to his feet, glaring at Adrian with pure, unadulterated venom. “This isn't over, Moretti,” he choked out before retreating into the dark with his men.
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Lucas lowered his weapons, stepping up beside Adrian. “He won't stop, boss. Dominic has too many greedy eyes on your seat.”
“I know,” Adrian said, pulling a white handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his hands. “He’s going to strike soon. And he’s going to use the one thing he thinks is my weakness.”
