Chapter 6 – The Ghost of New Jersey
Rain lashed against the reinforced glass windows of the Moretti estate as dawn broke over Westchester in a bruised, slate-gray sky.
Down in the subterranean holding cell, Viktor Vance had finally stopped screaming. The interrogation had been methodical, precise, and completely devoid of mercy. Marcus Vance had carried out his duty with cold, mechanical efficiency. When he returned to the main residence just before sunrise, his knuckles were split and his eyes looked hollow.
He found Dominic standing in the grand foyer, watching the storm-battered lawn through the floor-to-ceiling glass doors.
“He gave up the handler,” Marcus said, his voice raw with fatigue.
Dominic didn’t turn around. “Who is it?”
“Not Salvatore Romano himself,” Marcus said, stopping beside his boss. “Salvatore died in a private Swiss clinic six months back. But his nephew, Julian Romano, seized control of what remained of the Jersey syndicate. He’s been operating out of a decommissioned freight warehouse down in Bayonne, rebuilding the family network under a shell company.”
Dominic’s jaw set. “Julian.”
“Viktor claimed Julian offered him a cut of the northern shipping routes if he neutralized Ethan,” Marcus continued, swallowing heavily. “The plan was to cripple you with grief so you couldn’t manage the empire, forcing the Council to redistribute control of the ports.”
“A amateur’s gamble,” Dominic said coldly. He turned away from the window, his face a mask of absolute stone. “Gather the strike teams. We’re heading to Jersey.”
“Boss,” Marcus cautioned, “Julian’s facility is locked down. He’s running thirty heavily armed contractors on the perimeter and has local transit authorities in his pocket. A direct assault will turn into a full-scale war zone.”
“Let it turn into a war zone,” Dominic replied, striding toward the armory. “Let every syndicate from New York to Chicago see the price of touching my son.”
Before Marcus could step after him, soft footsteps echoed across the marble floor.
Sophia stood near the foot of the grand staircase, carrying Lily in her arms. The toddler was rubbing her eyes, clutching a worn plush rabbit to her chest.
Dominic paused in his tracks. The terrifying mob kingpin shifted instantly into something far more grounded as his eyes fell upon the child who had preserved his family.
He crossed the foyer and stopped beside them. Extending his hand, his calloused fingers gently brushed a dark lock of hair from Lily’s forehead.
“Are you leaving, Mr. Moretti?” Lily asked softly, looking up at him without a hint of fear.
“Just clearing out some trash, sweetheart,” Dominic said, his voice dropping to a gentle rumble. He glanced up at Sophia. “Seal the doors behind us. Marcus is leaving four operatives inside the main house. No entry without today’s clearance code.”
“Be careful, Dominic,” Sophia said softly, her hand instinctively reaching out to rest against his sleeve.
Dominic looked down at her fingers resting on his coat. It was a simple gesture, but in his world, it carried immense weight.
“Always am,” he murmured.
Turning away, he stepped out into the pouring rain.
