Chapter 9 - Blood in the Harbor
The assault was over before the guards on the perimeter even managed to unholster their sidearms.
Two suppressed cracks echoed simultaneously through the salt air as the outer sentries dropped silently into the gravel. Tony and three enforcers blew the side door of the harbor master's office with a controlled breaching charge, shattering the lock in a muffled thunderclap.
Inside, Dante Moretti spun around, dropping his pocket watch as he yanked a snub-nosed revolver from his waistband and grabbed Norah by the collar, pressing the cold barrel against the side of her small head.
"Stay back!" Dante roared, his face twisted with frantic desperation as smoke drifted into the room. "One step closer, Matteo, and the girl's brains decorate this desk!"
Matteo stepped through the shattered doorway, his rifle lowered slightly, his eyes locked onto his uncle with a terrifying, unblinking glare.
"Let her go, Dante," Matteo said, his voice terrifyingly calm, cutting through the chaos of shouting men outside. "This is between you and me. The ledger is back at the estate, Calvin is in a hole, and your little shipping cartel is finished."
"You think I care about a ledger?" Dante snarled, pressing the gun harder against Norah’s temple. The little girl whimpered, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, her lips trembling. "I built this family! Your father was a weak fool, and you’re just a boy playing warlord! Hand over the north wing master keys and sign over Moretti Holdings, or I pull the trigger right now!"
Dante’s finger tightened on the trigger guard. The tension in the room stretched like a frayed wire about to snap under unbearable weight.
Matteo didn't move toward his rifle. Instead, his hand drifted casually to his side, his fingers wrapping around the hilt of a hidden combat knife tucked into his tactical belt.
"You always miscalculated, Uncle," Matteo whispered. "You think leverage is about what you hold. But you forgot what I protect."
Before Dante could process the words, Matteo’s arm whipped forward in a blur of motion.
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The heavy steel combat knife left his hand, spinning through the air with lethal velocity, burying itself hilt-deep directly into Dante’s right forearm.
A bloodcurdling scream tore from Dante’s throat as the revolver dropped from his paralyzed hand, clattering loudly against the wooden floorboards.
