Chapter 7 - The Cleanup at the Docks
The scent of diesel, old iron, and Lake Michigan brine hung thick over Sector 4 of the Alfieri shipping yards. It was past midnight, three days after the arrests at the estate, but the lights around Cargo Bay B were blazing white against the dark water.
Nico stood beside the open sliding door of a shipping container, leaning heavily on his carbon-fiber cane. His legs still ached with the burning pins-and-needles sensation of recovering nerve pathways, but he refused the wheelchair. Beside him, Vince clicked open a heavy steel ledger recovered from Salvatore’s private office safe.
“Every manifest from the past three years was altered,” Vince said, shining a flashlight over the columns of numbers. “They weren't just skimming logistics fees, boss. They were using the cold-storage warehouses to launder cargo coming out of the eastern ports. Unmarked crates. No customs documentation.”
Nico didn’t blink. His face was hard, carved from the same stone as the concrete beneath his boots. “And the internal security detail?”
“Cleaned out. The men loyal to Salvatore have either been handed over to the feds or cleared out of the payroll. Anyone who took a bribe from my uncle is looking at ten years minimum.” Vince looked up, hesitating for a second. “What about the girl?”
Nico turned his head sharply. “Adeline is not ‘the girl,’ Vince. She’s the reason we’re standing here instead of reading my obituary.”
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“I know, I know,” Vince muttered, holding up his hands defensively. “Just... she’s moving into the east wing tomorrow. Permanently. The household staff is whispering. People aren't used to seeing a nurse treated like an equal partner in this house.”
“Let them whisper,” Nico said coldly, turning back toward the dark water. “Let them see what happens to anyone who forgets whose name is on the gate.”
