Chapter 6 - Dawn over the East River
The first streaks of pale orange and bruised purple light began to bleed through the grimy high windows of Warehouse 42 just as the clock struck six in the morning.
I stood by the loading dock doors, holding a steaming paper cup of black coffee that Tony had brought me from an all-night diner down the block. Outside, the East River was a flat ribbon of grey steel, sluggishly carrying the garbage and secrets of the city out toward the open ocean.
Footsteps echoed heavily on the metal stairs leading up from the basement holding cells.
Tony emerged first, his face impassive, his jacket zipped up against the morning chill. Behind him came two enforcers, each gripping one of Marco and Vince’s arms, half-carrying them across the floor. Both men looked utterly destroyed—pale, trembling, hollowed out by a night spent staring into the dark abyss of their own inevitable reckoning.
They didn't beg anymore. There was no fight left in them. They knew the rules of the world they had chosen to play in, and they knew that breaking the sacred taboo of harming an innocent child placed them outside the protection of any code, mafia or otherwise.
Tony stopped them a few yards away from where I stood.
I took a slow sip of my coffee, let the bitter heat burn the back of my throat, and then set the paper cup down on a wooden crate.
"Boss," Marco whispered, his voice cracking into a dry rattle. "Please... just... make it quick."
"You didn't make it quick for Elena," I said, my voice carrying clearly across the silent warehouse floor. "You didn't give her a choice, a warning, or a prayer. You ran her down in the dark and left her broken in the street."
I looked at Vince, whose glasses were still missing, squinting blindly into the morning light. "And you traded a little girl's life to pad your offshore accounts with drug money."
I turned my gaze to Tony. "Take them out to the lower pier. Make sure the drop is deep. And when it’s done, I want every trace of their existence wiped from our books, our properties, and our memory."
"Understood, Boss," Tony said, nodding to the enforcers.
Without another word, Marco and Vince were hauled toward the wide sliding metal doors that opened directly over the river. They didn't struggle. They just let themselves be dragged out into the cold morning air, their footsteps scraping softly against the concrete until the heavy steel doors banged shut behind them.
I didn't watch them go. I turned around and looked down at the floor.
May you like
Bruno was still sitting right where he had been all night, his massive ears perking up as the heavy doors slammed. He looked up at me, his deep brown eyes clear, steady, and entirely at peace.
"It's over, old friend," I said quietly, walking over and kneeling down to scratch him right behind the ears. "The debt is paid."
