Chapter 8 - The Breach at the Gates
The knock was rhythmic—two sharp raps, a pause, then one heavy thud. Savage’s code.
Roman stepped away from the bed, his hand instinctively dropping to the Sig Sauer under his arm as he pulled the door open an inch. Savage stood in the hallway, his trench coat damp, his face set in lines of cold granite.
"We have a problem at the North Gate," Savage said in a low, controlled hiss that wouldn't carry into the room.
"What kind of problem?" Roman asked, stepping out into the corridor and pulling the door half-closed behind him to shield Nora and Sophie from view.
"Vincenzo’s boys found something in the church rectory after we cleaned out the safe," Savage replied, holding up a heavy, encrypted tactical tablet. "Father Thomas didn't just have bearer bonds in the basement. He had a secondary ledger—a direct communication log between your mother and the Genovese family in Manhattan."
Roman’s eyes narrowed into thin slits. "The Genovese? They haven't made a direct move on our territory since the dock strike of ten years ago."
"They aren't making a move," Savage corrected, swiping the screen to bring up a scanned document. "They're staging a takeover. Your mother didn't just skim twenty percent for her own amusement. She was using the syndicate's operational funds to buy off three of our key captains—Carmine Rossi included—to hand over the Hunts Point distribution hubs by the end of the month."
The silence in the hallway was absolute. Roman stared at the tablet screen, the names, the wire transfer receipts, and the digital signatures glowing in the dim light of the wall sconce. Carmine Rossi—the man who had sat across the mahogany table twenty minutes ago and sworn loyalty to the D’Angelo name—was already selling the family out to the old enemy in New York.
"Carmine," Roman whispered, the name tasting like ash in his mouth.
"He thinks you're soft," Savage said. "He thinks bringing the kid back and banishing the old lady broke your edge. The Genovese are holding a sit-down tonight at the seafood warehouse off Pier 42. They expect you to show up alone to negotiate terms."
Roman reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a massive headache pounding behind his temples like a jackhammer. He turned his head and looked through the crack in the door. Inside, Nora was kneeling on the floor, helping Sophie build a taller tower of wooden blocks, her face momentarily free of the shadows that had haunted it all morning.
If he went to Pier 42 tonight, he would be walking into a slaughterhouse designed by his own mother and financed by his own captains. If he didn't go, the syndicate would fracture by morning, and the war would spill over the gates of the estate and into the nursery where his daughter was finally learning how to sleep in peace.
"Savage," Roman said, his voice dropping into a register so cold it made his head of security blink.
"Boss?"
"Call the strike team. Tell them to load the heavy gear into the unmarked vans. We're not going to a sit-down."
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"What are we doing?" Savage asked, a grim smile touching the corner of his mouth.
"We're going to hold a family reunion," Roman said.
