Chapter 3 - The Threat at the DocksWhile peace settled over the top floor of the Moretti penthouse, a dangerous storm was brewing in the dark underbelly of Chicago.
At 2:00 AM, inside an abandoned shipping warehouse near the Calumet River, Viktor Kowalski—the ruthless boss of the Kowalski syndicate—sat at a steel desk counting stacks of extortion cash.
Suddenly, the heavy steel security doors of the warehouse were blown off their hinges with an explosive crash.
Thirty armed Moretti operators in dark tactical gear swept into the building, their submachine guns pinned directly on Kowalski’s men.
Stepping through the smoke, wearing an immaculate charcoal suit, flanked by his chief lieutenant, Leo, was Dante.
Kowalski jumped out of his chair, pulling his sidearm with a frantic, sweat-slicked rage. "Moretti?! What the hell is this?! You're trespassing on Kowalski territory!"
Dante didn't draw a weapon. He walked slowly across the concrete floor, stopping three feet from Kowalski's desk.
He pulled a black leather checkbook from his inner suit pocket, wrote a single check for fifty thousand dollars, and slapped it flat onto the steel desk.
"That settles Toby Vance's debt," Dante spoke flatly. His thunderous baritone echoed through the vast warehouse like a rolling wave of thunder, freezing the blood in Kowalski's veins.
Kowalski stared at the check, then looked up at Dante with a cold, sneering grin. "Toby Vance? The pathetic waiter? Why does the great Don Moretti care about a broke kid from South Chicago?"
"Because his sister is Elena Vance," Dante revealed, taking one step closer, his storm-gray eyes burning with a dark, apocalyptic fire. "The primary guardian of my daughters."
Kowalski’s smile froze into an ugly, horrified contortion.
May you like
"If any of your men step within ten miles of Toby Vance or my family again, Viktor," Dante promised softly, every word carrying a lethal, final weight, "I won't send a check next time. I'll send Leo with twenty barrels of concrete."
Kowalski’s hands trembled violently against the desk. He swallowed hard, nodding his head in total, groveling defeat. "The... the debt is settled, Don Moretti. We won't touch them."
Related Stories
