Chapter 16 - The Roots of Betrayal
Marcus had been my chief tactical advisor during the bloodiest years of the expansion into Missouri and Kentucky—back when Warren Harlan and I were still trading bullets instead of marriage treaties and forced alliances. When he vanished after the St. Louis warehouse fire, I assumed a rival crew had taken care of him.
Instead, he had gone underground, building a shadow network inside Graves Logistics while I was busy running legitimate real estate and shipping portfolios.
“You’re out of your depth, Marcus,” I said, stepping closer until I could smell the stale coffee and gun oil on his tactical vest. “Sending a threat to a family in Queens? That’s not business. That’s the work of a desperate coward who knows he’s losing control of the ledger.”
“You’re the one who lost control, Dominic!” Marcus barked, his eyes flashing with sudden, bitter fury as he strained against the enforcers holding his arms. “You got soft! You started caring about little girls drawing pictures in notebooks! You started liquidating profitable syndicates because of a guilty conscience over a stray accident in the dark!”
“An innocent child was murdered to cover up a sloppy drug drop,” I replied, my voice dropping into a cold, flat register that made even Marcus flinch. “That wasn't an accident. That was a betrayal of the basic law that keeps animals from tearing each other apart in the streets.”
“Law?” Marcus laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “We are criminals, Dominic! We move dirty money, we control the ports, we buy politicians and judges! There is no law in our world except for power and survival. And you traded ours away for a dog and a guilty conscience.”
I turned away from him, walking over to the wooden pallet where the dummy flash-drive rested. I picked it up, turned it over in my hand, and then looked back at Tony.
“Where is the rest of his cell?” I asked.
“We tracked their comms frequency the moment they breached the gate,” Tony answered, holding up a ruggedized tactical tablet. “Safehouse is located in a decommissioned rail yard two miles north of here. Six more men, plus the primary financial server they’ve been using to siphon funds from our European accounts.”
“Clear the safehouse,” I ordered quietly. “Leave nobody inside with a weapon.”
“Understood,” Tony said, nodding to the enforcers.
May you like
Marcus struggled violently as the men grabbed him by the shoulders, dragging him toward the rear exit of the bay. “You can’t stop this, Dominic!” he screamed over the hum of the overhead lights. “The board voted last week! You’re out! The new leadership is taking over Graves Logistics by morning!”
“Tell the board I said hello,” I replied without looking back.
