7: The Docks of Retribution

CHAPTER SEVEN

POV: Dante Moretti

The East End docks were the lungs of this city. They breathed in contraband and breathed out cold, hard cash. For three generations, the Vanes had owned every crane, every shipping container, and every crooked customs agent on these piers. Tonight, I was going to cut those lungs out.

I glanced at Julian in the passenger seat of the armoured SUV. He was silent, his gaze fixed on the industrial skyline. He was wearing the black tactical gear I’d ordered for him, no more silk, no more gold. He looked like a shadow. The silver Moretti ring on his finger caught the passing streetlights, a constant reminder of the vow he’d signed in blood.

"You’re quiet," I said, my hands steady on the wheel.

"I’m thinking about the last time I was here," Julian replied, his voice devoid of emotion. "It was my father's birthday. Leo and Marcus stood right there on Pier 47 and promised him they would keep the family legacy alive. They were toasted with champagne. Tonight, I’m going to toast them in gasoline."

"Good," I grunted. "Anger is a better fuel than grief. But don't let it blind you. We aren't here for revenge tonight; we’re here for a takeover. We seize the ledger, we burn the untraceable cargo, and we leave the Moretti mark. We let them know the Vane name now answers to me."

We pulled into the shadows of a warehouse. My men, led by my Enforcer, Enzo, were already in position. Enzo didn't like Julian. He didn't like that I’d brought a "civilian" into a tactical strike. But Enzo didn't understand what I saw in Julian. I didn't just see a name; I saw a weapon that had been polished by tragedy.

We stepped out of the car. The air was thick with the scent of salt, rotting fish, and diesel.

"Enzo," I signalled.

"Perimeter is clear, Boss," Enzo whispered, his eyes flickering toward Julian with blatant disrespect. "But we’ve got a problem. The Vane guards aren't alone. There are mercenaries with them. 'The Black Dogs.' Someone tipped them off that a move was coming."

Julian stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the crates. "They aren't mercenaries, Enzo. They’re Leo’s personal security. They aren't here to protect the docks; they’re here to protect the shipment in Container 402."

I looked at Julian. "What’s in 402?"

"My father’s private collection," Julian said, his jaw tightening. "Not art. Data. The encrypted drives that hold the names of every politician the Vanes have paid off for thirty years. If Leo sells those to the highest bidder, he doesn't just get rich he starts a civil war in the city council."

"Then we take the container," I said, drawing my suppressed HK45. "Julian, stay behind Enzo. If anyone moves, you drop them. No hesitation."

"I don't need a babysitter, Dante," Julian snapped, checking the magazine of the Beretta I’d given him.

"You'll get one until I say otherwise," I growled, grabbing the back of his tactical vest and pulling him close. "Stay alive, Julian. That’s your only job tonight."

We moved through the labyrinth of shipping containers. The only sound was the lapping of the dark water against the pilings and the distant hum of the city. We reached Pier 9. The Vane guards were stationed at the corners, cigarettes glowing in the dark.

I signalled for the silent takedown. Enzo and two other men slipped into the shadows. Seconds later, the guards were down throats opened before they could even draw breath.

We reached Container 402. It was a massive, weathered steel box.

"Open it," I commanded.

Enzo moved with the bolt cutters. The heavy lock snapped. As the doors creaked open, the interior was flooded with light from the warehouse rafters.

"Drop it! Now!" a voice screamed.

From behind a stack of crates, Leo Vane stepped out. He wasn't alone. Six men with submachine guns emerged from the shadows, their barrels leveled at my chest.

Leo looked frantic. His expensive hair was disheveled, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked at me, then his gaze landed on Julian.

"You brought him?" Leo laughed, a high, unstable sound. "You brought the little Prince to a gunfight? You really are as arrogant as they say, Moretti."

"Leo, stop," Julian said, stepping out from behind Enzo. He stood tall, his silhouette framed by the industrial lights. "It’s over. Dante has the docks. Give him the drives, and maybe you’ll walk away with your life."

"Give him the drives?" Leo spat, his face twisting in rage. "These drives are our retirement, Julian! I’m not spending the rest of my life as a Moretti footman. I sold you to buy our freedom, and I’ll kill you to keep it!"

Leo raised his gun, aiming directly at Julian’s heart.

Time slowed. I felt the familiar rush of combat, the cold, calculated stillness. I started to move, to shove Julian out of the way, but I wasn't fast enough.

Pop. Pop.

Two suppressed rounds hissed through the air.

Leo’s shoulder exploded in a spray of red, and his gun clattered to the concrete. He fell back, screaming.

I looked at Julian. His arms were extended, his grip on the Beretta perfect, his eyes cold and unblinking. He hadn't waited for me. He hadn't waited for Enzo. He had seen the threat and neutralized it.

The mercenaries hesitated, looking at their fallen boss. That second of hesitation was all my men needed. The warehouse erupted into a symphony of suppressed gunfire. Within thirty seconds, the Black Dogs were on the ground, and the silence returned to the docks.

I walked over to Leo, who was clutching his mangled shoulder, sobbing. I ignored him and turned to Julian.

He was staring at his brother, the gun still gripped in his hand. He wasn't shaking. He looked... hollow.

"You shot him," I said, stepping into his space.

"I aimed for his heart," Julian whispered, his voice trembling for the first time. "I missed."

"No," I said, reaching out and taking the gun from his hand. I tucked it back into his holster. "You chose not to kill him. Not yet."

I turned to Enzo. "Secure the drives. Burn the rest of the warehouse. Leave Leo here. Let him crawl back to Marcus and tell him that the Moretti family is coming for the rest of their kingdom."

I grabbed Julian’s arm and led him back toward the car. He went willingly, his body leaning slightly into mine. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind the heavy weight of what he’d just done. He had crossed the line. He wasn't just a Vane anymore. He was a killer.

As we reached the SUV, I pinned him against the door. I could feel the frantic heat radiating off him. I leaned in, my lips brushing his forehead.

"You did well, Julian," I whispered. "Welcome to the underworld."

He looked up at me, his blue eyes reflecting the fires beginning to roar in the warehouse behind us. "I hate you, Dante."

"I know," I said, a dark smirk tugging at my lips. "But you’re starting to love the power I give you. And that’s much more dangerous."

I opened the door and pushed him inside. As we drove away, the East End docks began to glow orange in the rearview mirror. The Vane empire was burning, and my husband was the one who had lit the match.