Chapter 6 - The Broken Viper
Dante groaned into the wet wood, the knife dropping harmlessly between the planks. Behind us, Vanessa was weeping hysterically, dragging herself across the dock by her fingernails, leaving a red trail behind her.
"Dominic, please... call an ambulance! I'm bleeding to death!" she sobbed, all her venomous pride dissolving into raw, animal panic. "I'll give you everything back! The accounts, the deeds, the names of the bosses Dante conspired with! Please, don't let me die in this dark hole!"
I walked over to her, looking down at the ruined woman who had tried to steal my life.
"You aren't dying tonight, Vanessa," I said, my voice colder than the Atlantic wind whipping through the tunnel. "Death is too easy for you. A bullet takes a second. What you did to my father, what you did to my mother... you will answer for every single bruise."
Heavy footsteps echoed down the boat launch as Leo and half a dozen Vanguard soldiers arrived, zip-ties and tactical first-aid kits in hand.
"Secure them," I instructed Leo. "Patch them up just enough so they survive the night. Keep them in the basement cells beneath the old brewery in Queens. Not a word to the police. Not a word to the other families until I speak to the Commission."
"Understood, Dominic," Leo said, his eyes burning with grim satisfaction as his men roughly bound Dante’s wrists and hauled the screaming Vanessa onto a stretcher. "What about your shoulder?"
"I'll stitch it myself," I replied, walking over to the duffel bag Vanessa had dropped. Inside were the family's stolen property deeds, two million in negotiable bearer bonds, and a thick ledger bound in black leather.
I flipped open the ledger. It wasn't just bank accounts. It was a complete, meticulously documented record of Dante’s conspiracy. It contained meeting dates, bank transaction numbers, and wiretaps detailing a coordinated coup involving two rival families from the Five Families Commission—the Morettis and the Luccianos.
Dante and Vanessa hadn't just planned to murder my family; they had promised the other syndicates full access to our multi-million-dollar maritime shipping lanes in exchange for backing their takeover. The waterfront deal I was finalizing earlier that afternoon in Manhattan had been a setup from the start—a distraction to keep me away from my estate while they tortured my mother for the vault codes.
"Leo," I said, looking up from the pages. "The Morettis think I'm dead or mourning."
"They do," Leo nodded, lighting a cigarette with trembling, scarred fingers. "Sal Moretti called my burner ten minutes ago, offering his 'condolences' for the tragedy at the Vance estate. He asked if the family needed him to 'step in and secure our territory' during the funeral."
A razor-thin, terrifying smile crossed my lips. The pain in my shoulder vanished, burned away by the cold calculation of war.
"Tell Sal we accept his condolences," I said softly. "Invite him, along with Don Lucciano, to the Grand Harbor Hotel penthouse at midnight tonight. Tell them Dante Rossi has secured the family leadership and wants to finalize the new division of the city."
May you like
Leo’s eyes widened with dark understanding. "A banquet of wolves."
"Exactly," I said, racking my sidearm. "And tonight, I feed them their own greed."
