Chapter 14 - blood on the concrete
The iron hatch above exploded inward.
Stun grenades flashed with blinding white light, thunderous concussive blasts ripping through the warehouse office.
Shouts and gunfire erupted in a furious storm of violence. Carmine’s men surged up the narrow iron staircase, their suppressed weapons firing with deadly precision.
Fay stayed behind Dominic’s chair as Carmine wheeled him up the ramp into the upper floor.
The warehouse office was filled with acrid smoke. Shattered glass covered the floor. Three of Moretti’s armed guards lay disarmed and groaning against the wall, their weapons kicked away by Dominic’s assault team.
In the center of the room, Sal Moretti was pinned to the floor by two operatives, his expensive silk shirt torn and covered in soot.
Luca Bennett was backed against the shattered window, clutching a bleeding shoulder where a ricochet had grazed him. In his right hand, Luca held a heavy steel lockbox.
"Don't move, Luca," Carmine barked, leveling his weapon at his former protégé.
Luca looked past Carmine, his eyes landing on Dominic Corso sitting in his tactical chair amidst the smoke.
Luca’s lips curled into a wild, desperate sneer. "Look at you, Dominic. The great king of the city, wheeled into battle like a broken toy."
"Drop the box, Luca," Dominic said. His voice was terrifyingly calm, slicing through the smoke with chilling authority.
"You think this ends with me?" Luca laughed bitterly. "Victoria has the board in her pocket. The wire transfers are already signed with Helena's legacy codes. You're yesterday's news, Dominic. You've been rotting in that chair for six months while the real wolves took your empire."
"My aunt ordered the yacht bombed," Dominic said. "And she paid you to keep me paralyzed so I couldn't stop her."
"She paid me ten million dollars," Luca spat, shifting his weight toward the window ledge. "More than you ever gave me."
Luca suddenly swung the steel lockbox, aiming to smash it through the window into the dark harbor water below.
*BANG.*
Dominic didn't shout. He lifted the silenced pistol from his lap and fired a single, perfect round directly through Luca’s right wrist.
Luca screamed, dropping the steel box onto the concrete floor with a heavy thud. Carmine’s men tackled Luca to the ground, pinning him flat against the floorboards and wrenching his arms behind his back.
Carmine scooped up the steel lockbox. He used a crowbar from the breach kit to pry the heavy lid open.
Inside lay two items:
A blackened, water-damaged titanium flight recorder from Helena Corso's yacht.
And a leather ledger filled with handwritten wire transfer codes, accounts, and signed contracts bearing the seal of Victoria Corso.
Dominic looked down at Sal Moretti, who was trembling on the floor.
"Where is the rent money you stole from my properties, Sal?" Dominic asked softly.
"In... in the duffel under the desk!" Moretti begged, tears streaming down his bruised face. "Take it, Dominic! Take it all! I was just following orders! Victoria said she’d bury me if I didn't squeeze the south side!"
Dominic glanced at Fay, who stood beside the door, her chest heaving as the smoke cleared.
"Fay," Dominic said.
Fay stepped forward.
Dominic gestured to the heavy duffel bag sitting beneath the desk. "Open it."
Fay unzipped the canvas bag. Inside were neat, banded stacks of hundred-dollar bills—over two million dollars in extortion cash.
"Take fifty thousand," Dominic said without blinking. "Consider your rent paid for the next ten years."
Fay stared at the stacks of cash, then looked into Dominic’s dark eyes. She didn't touch the money.
"I don't want stolen cash, Mr. Corso," Fay said clearly. "I want the deed to my building cleared. And I want the truth about my father."
May you like
Dominic’s lips twitched with profound respect. "You'll have both."
He turned to Carmine. "Zip-tie them. Throw them in the van. We have a board meeting at nine in the morning."
