Chapter 11
The rain battered against the high arched windows of the Valerio Estate’s private library, mirroring the quiet, brewing violence inside the room. Dominic Valerio stood tall, his massive, battle-hardened frame completely still as he looked out into the pitch-black New York night. He had just exiled Vivienne Cross, forcing her to surrender her board seats and vacate the state. Yet, the true war was only just beginning. The syndicate back in Chicago had heard he surfaced in Manhattan and, mistaking his ten years of silence for weakness, had immediately dispatched three teams across the state line to reclaim the eastern territories.
The tactical operative in the dark coat remained at strict attention near the hidden door. His name was Elias, the commander of Dominic’s shadow guard. "They are moving fast, boss," Elias reported, his voice cutting through the steady drum of the rain. "The Chicago outfit hasn't deployed this kind of manpower since you consolidated the entire underground economy fifteen years ago. They smell blood in the water. They think the Manhattan elites softened you."
Dominic turned slowly from the window. His rugged face, heavily shadowed by the desk lamp, remained entirely unreadable. "Let them think what they want, Elias. Confidence breeds carelessness." He walked back to his dark oak desk, picking up the cold espresso cup. "Who did they send?"
"Marcus Thorne is leading the primary strike team," Elias answered, stepping closer to the desk to drop a thick, classified dossier onto the polished wood. "He's Chicago's top enforcer. Brutal. Loud. He doesn't respect the old ways, and he certainly doesn't respect the borders you drew fifteen years ago. The second and third teams are logistical support and cleanup crews, heavily armed, crossing through the Pennsylvania corridor as we speak."
Dominic opened the dossier. The pages were filled with surveillance photos of heavily armed men, illicit supply routes, and intercepted communications. He had vanished into thin air a decade ago to let the underground stabilize, but it seemed the younger generation needed a reminder of who owned the night.
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"They intend to hit our shipping fronts in Brooklyn first," Elias continued. "They want to cripple our supply lines and starve us out before making a move on the estate."
"They won't make it to Brooklyn," Dominic said smoothly, his deep, gravely voice echoing with ice-cold precision. "We do not wait for them to bring the war to our doorstep. We meet them on the highway. Assemble the ghost units. I want Thorne’s advance team intercepted before they cross the Hudson River. No survivors, Elias. Chicago needs to understand that the ghost has returned."
