Chapter 6 - Dawn at the DocksThe sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the choppy waters of the Seattle harbor in shades of slate and gold. An abandoned brick warehouse near the edge of Pier 14 stood silent and desolate, surrounded by empty shipping containers and the smell of salt water and burnt diesel.
I sat in the passenger seat of Dante’s armored SUV parked three hundred yards away, watching through binoculars as Dante and Mateo walked calmly toward the warehouse doors. Behind us, three tactical vehicles blocked the access road, ensuring no unexpected interruptions from local authorities or rival hit squads.
I had argued against coming, but I refused to sit in a glass fortress while the father of my child walked into the lion's den alone.
Through the binoculars, I saw the heavy metal doors of the warehouse creak open. Salvatore Rossi—a heavy-set, silver-haired Chicago mobster flanked by four armed bodyguards—stepped out into the pale morning light.
"Mr. Moretti," Rossi shouted across the open concrete yard, his voice carrying clearly in the crisp air. "I hear you survived a bullet to the chest. I suppose congratulations are in order, though you won't survive the morning."
"You made a mistake, Salvatore," Dante's voice rang out, steady, powerful, and utterly devoid of fear. "You targeted a civilian. You brought my family into a business dispute. In my city, that is a capital offense."
"Family?" Rossi laughed harshly. "Everyone knows you walked away from your old life years ago. You don't have a family, Moretti—you're just a ghost sitting on a throne of dust."
At that exact moment, the perimeter lights surrounding the entire harbor suddenly clicked on, bathing the industrial yard in blinding white illumination. From behind the stacked shipping containers, dozens of Dante’s security operatives stepped out from the shadows, their weapons raised and trained directly on Rossi and his men. At the same time, the faint whine of approaching federal helicopters filled the air above—responding to the anonymous financial tip Dante’s team had delivered to the FBI hours earlier.
Rossi’s face drained of color as he realized he had walked directly into a well-laid trap. His bodyguards slowly lowered their weapons, recognizing the absolute hopelessness of their position.
"You're finished, Salvatore," Dante said, stepping closer as Mateo and his team moved in to disarm the Chicago mobsters. "Federal agents are landing at the gate right now. You can spend the rest of your life in a federal supermax cell, or you can sign over your western shipping routes to the Moretti council right here, right now."
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Rossi stared at Dante with pure, venomous hatred, but with federal rotor wash thundering overhead and armed men surrounding him on all sides, he pulled a crumpled pen from his jacket, slashed his signature across the transfer documents Mateo shoved into his hands, and spat on the concrete.
It was over. The war was won before the sun had even fully risen.
