Chapter 18 - Sudden gunfire shatters the quiet warehouse interior as hidden loyalists launch a ferocious ambush among towering stacks of shipping containers and heavy metal crates.
Flashbacks of previous turf wars reminded Salvatore of how quickly peace could shatter into violent chaos.
Years ago, a rival faction had ambushed him inside an old shipping yard near the Calumet River at midnight.
Hidden loyalists had opened fire from atop towering stacks of heavy metal crates and rusted shipping containers.
Bullets had chewed through the corrugated steel walls, filling the air with flying shrapnel and cordite smoke.
Salvatore had drawn his twin pistols then, returning fire with the cold, calculated precision of a seasoned combat veteran.
He had lost three good men that night, but he had left twenty of the enemy bleeding out in the mud.
That memory forged the ironclad security protocols that protected every member of his family to this day.
Except on that fateful night three days ago, when an insider bypassed the system from within.
Marcus was gone, the Council of Nine was exposed, and the traitors had all reaped their bitter harvest.
Yet Salvatore knew that in the underworld, breathing meant fighting for survival against the next rising tide.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, resting his weary head against the high-backed leather desk chair.
The amber glow of the study lamp caught the golden threads of his tie draped over the burgundy shirt.
Brun let out a soft, contented grunt, curling up tightly on the Persian rug beside the heavy oak desk.
The house fell back into a peaceful, heavy silence as the autumn storm raged harmlessly outside the estate.
May you like
Tomorrow, the world would wake up to a restructured syndicate operating under undisputed Sterling dominance.
---
Related Stories
