Chapter 5 - The Edge of the Blade
The rain had returned by 5:30 AM, sweeping cold and relentless over the industrial rusted iron of Pier 42. Lake Michigan churned in dark, violent waves against the wooden pilings beneath the pier.
I stood under a large black umbrella held by Marcus, Victor’s chief of security, at the edge of the abandoned shipping warehouse. My heart was a frantic, terrified beat in my chest.
At the center of the open concrete dock stood Victor.
He had stripped down to a simple white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, dark trousers, and leather boots. In his right hand, he held a sleek, ten-inch silver tactical combat knife. The rain soaked his hair, plastering it against his forehead, making his sharp features look carved from granite.
Fifty feet away stood Derek.
Derek looked like a condemned man walking to the gallows. He wore a heavy rain jacket over a gray sweater, his left wrist still bound in its medical brace, holding a military trench knife in his trembling right hand. Standing behind him was his father, Richard, looking pale and broken, surrounded by four Commission observers ensuring no rules were violated.
Don Carmine Lucchesi stepped into the center of the dock, holding an antique silver pocket watch.
"The rules of the Blood Duel are ancient and absolute," Carmine’s raspy voice carried over the roar of the lake wind. "No firearms. No outside intervention. The duel ends only when one man yields... or dies."
Carmine looked at both men. "Begin."
Carmine stepped back.
Derek didn't move. He stood frozen in the rain, his breath coming in ragged white clouds, staring at Victor with wide, terrified eyes.
Victor didn't rush. He walked forward with the calm, terrifying grace of an apex predator. His boots clicked evenly against the wet concrete.
"Come on, Derek," Victor taunted softly, his voice cutting through the wind. "You were brave enough when she was trapped in your kitchen. You were strong enough when she couldn't hit back. Show me that strength now."
"Shut up!" Derek screamed, his fear finally snapping into wild, uncoordinated rage.
Derek charged forward, raising his knife high, plunging it down toward Victor’s chest with a wild, clumsy swing.
Victor didn't even step back. He simply pivoted his upper body two inches to the left.
Derek’s blade sliced empty air.
Before Derek could recover his balance, Victor’s left elbow slammed with brutal force straight into Derek’s jaw. A loud CRACK echoed across the pier. Teeth and blood sprayed into the rain as Derek stumbled backward, groaning, dropping to one knee.
"Get up," Victor commanded coldly, stepping over him.
"Victor, please!" Richard Hail screamed from the sidelines, stepping forward, but two Commission enforcers instantly pulled their weapons, pressing the muzzles against Richard's temple. "Don't kill him! I'll give you the docks! I'll give you everything!"
Derek scrambled backward through the puddles, wiping blood from his shattered mouth, his eyes filled with pure hysterical terror. "I yield! I yield! Salvatore, stop! I give up!"
Victor stopped three feet away. He looked down at the pathetic, groveling man who had inflicted three years of unspeakable nightmare onto my life.
Slowly, Victor tossed his tactical knife into the rain, letting it clatter onto the wet concrete.
"You don't get to yield yet," Victor whispered.
Victor reached down, grabbed Derek by the front of his jacket, and lifted his 180-pound frame off the concrete with one arm. He dragged him across the pier, slamming him violently face-first against the heavy rusted iron cargo container near the water's edge.
Derek screamed as Victor pinned him, taking Derek’s right hand—the hand he had used to strike me—and placing it flat against the steel edge of the shipping container.
Victor looked back at me over his shoulder.
In his gray eyes, there was no bloodlust. There was only an absolute, sacred promise being fulfilled.
Victor raised his heavy, steel-toed combat boot and slammed it down onto Derek’s right hand with bone-crushing force.
A agonizing, blood-curdling shriek echoed across the lake as the bones in Derek’s hand shattered completely. Derek collapsed onto the wet dock, weeping, clutching his ruined hand, completely broken.
Victor turned back to the Commission observers.
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"The Hail family is stripped of their territory," Victor announced, his voice ringing across the pier like thunder. "Richard Hail is exiled from Illinois by sunset. Derek Hail remains alive... as a reminder of what happens to cowards in my city."
Don Carmine nodded once, closing his silver pocket watch. "The Commission acknowledges the victory. The Marlo debt is settled. Lena Marlo belongs to the Salvatore family."
