Chapter 7 - Blood on the Docks
The Boston shipyard was pitch black, lit only by the pale moonlight reflecting off the freezing ocean water.
Dante’s sleek black car rolled into warehouse district.
He and Nico stepped out. The silence was deafening.
Suddenly, floodlights snapped on, blinding them.
From the shadows, dozens of armed men stepped out, surrounding them in a tight circle.
At the center of the crowd stood Lorenzo, a fat, cigar-smoking boss with a cruel sneer. Beside him stood Marco, Dante’s uncle, looking nervously at the ground.
“Dante,” Lorenzo laughed, clapping his hands. “I hear congratulations are in order. A wife back from the dead and three little bastards. It’s a shame I have to kill you all tonight.”
Dante didn’t flinch. He casually adjusted his cuffs.
He looked at his uncle. “Marco. Seven years. You let me mourn for seven years while she starved.”
Marco swallowed hard. “It was business, Dante. You were soft on her. A boss can’t have a weakness. I did it for the family.”
“You did it for power,” Dante corrected coldly.
“Enough talking!” Lorenzo barked, raising his hand to signal his snipers. “Kill him.”
Lorenzo dropped his hand.
Nothing happened.
Lorenzo frowned. He raised his hand again. “I said, kill him!”
Still, no shots rang out.
Dante smiled. It was the smile of the devil.
“Did you really think I’d walk into a trap set by a man I’ve known was an idiot for a decade?” Dante mocked.
Suddenly, the red laser dots of fifty sniper rifles painted the chests and foreheads of Lorenzo, Marco, and every single one of their men.
From the rooftops of the warehouses, Dante’s hidden elite tactical teams revealed themselves. They hadn’t traveled light. Dante had mobilized his entire army hours before the meeting.
Lorenzo’s cigar dropped from his mouth.
Marco fell to his knees, shaking uncontrollably. “Dante... please... blood is blood.”
Dante walked forward, pulling his Beretta from its holster.
“You broke the blood pact when you targeted my children,” Dante said, his voice void of any mercy.
He didn’t hesitate.
Two shots rang out in the cold night air.
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Lorenzo and Marco fell lifeless to the concrete.
The rest of Lorenzo’s men dropped their weapons instantly, raising their hands in surrender to the new, undisputed king of the Boston underworld.
