Chapter 9 - ambush at pier seven
The fog over the East River was thick as three black Moretti sedans pulled up outside Warehouse 12 at Pier 7.
Victor stepped out into the rain, wearing a tactical vest over his black suit, his heavy pistol held at his side. Marco and six heavily armed enforcers moved in tight formation behind him.
The warehouse doors were slightly open, a warm yellow light spilling onto the wet pavement.
Victor kicked the heavy steel door open, stepping into the massive, shadowy space filled with shipping crates.
Standing in the center of the warehouse, surrounded by ten armed mercenaries, was Adrian Cross. Beside him sat an iron vault embedded in the concrete wall—the Moretti family harbor vault.
"You're late, Moretti!" Adrian called out, holding an automatic shotgun. "Celeste gave me the override code before you locked her up!"
"Celeste played you, Adrian," Victor said, his voice echoing through the steel girders. "She was using you to open the vault so her Chicago backers could execute you."
Adrian laughed arrogantly. "You think I trust that snake? I brought my own team! Once I pull the Bloodline Charter out of that wall, the High Council recognizes me as Don of both families!"
Adrian turned and slammed a heavy silver keycard into the vault's digital reader. The iron door hissed and swung open.
Adrian reached inside, pulling out a heavy, leather-bound folder stamped with gold wax. He threw the vault door shut and held the folder up triumphantly.
"It's over, Victor!" Adrian sneered. "The empire is mine!"
Victor didn't raise his gun. He simply stood there, a cold, dark smile spreading across his face.
"Open the folder, Adrian," Victor said softly.
Adrian frowned, flicking open the gold wax seal. He pulled out the parchment inside and scanned the text.
His face drained of all color.
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The paper inside wasn't the Moretti Bloodline Charter. It was a certified federal indictment warrant stamped by the United States District Court, listing Adrian Cross and Celeste Moretti as co-conspirators in a decade of international racketeering.
Before Adrian could speak, red tactical laser dots illuminated his chest through the high warehouse windows.
