Chapter 7: The Confrontation at the Warehouse
The ultimatum arrived on a disposable burner phone at three in the afternoon. Rossi had intercepted a cargo vessel carrying five million dollars in raw medical supplies—legitimate freight Vincent used to clean his capital.
"Meet me at Pier 14, Cane," Rossi’s voice sneered through the speaker. "Come alone, or we torch the whole warehouse. Let's see if the family man still knows how to negotiate."
Clara stood in the hallway as Vincent adjusted his black overcoat. She had regained some color in her cheeks, but the worry in her eyes was unmistakable.
"Don't go back to that," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "You built this wall between us because you said you were dangerous. If you go out there and kill people, what did you save us for?"
Vincent walked over, stopping just an inch from her. He reached out, his rough thumb gently brushing against her cheekbone.
"Six years ago, I ran because I thought being near me would destroy you," he said in a low, quiet tone. "I was wrong. Leaving you alone in the cold almost killed you both. I’m not running anymore, Clara. But to keep you safe, I have to finish the men who make the world dangerous."
He turned on his heel and walked toward the private elevator. Declan fell in step beside him, checking the magazine of his sidearm with a crisp metallic click.
"How are we playing this, Boss?" Declan asked.
May you like
"No negotiations," Vincent answered coldly. "We take the board."
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