Chapter 4 - Shadows in the Harbor
Down at the Castellano shipping yards along the eastern harbor, the midnight air smelled of salt, diesel, and decaying fish. Giant steel cargo cranes loomed like skeletal giants against the black sky, casting long shadows over the rows of stacked shipping containers.
Inside the primary administrative office, a sleek, modern glass-walled room suspended above the chaotic docks, Aldo Manfredi poured himself a glass of expensive scotch. He swirled the amber liquid, a triumphant smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
His phone buzzed on the mahogany desk. He picked it up, seeing an encrypted text from one of the house guards: West wing quiet. Boss hasn't moved.
Aldo chuckled softly, taking a slow sip. Forty days. Just a few more drops of the heavy-metal compound into the old man's evening water, and the medical examiners would sign off on a peaceful, natural heart failure. The empire would fall neatly into his lap without a single bullet fired or a single riot on the docks. The capos were already in his pocket; the politicians were already rewriting their bribes to bear his name.
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"Enjoy your sleep, Dario," Aldo murmured to the empty room, raising his glass toward the window overlooking the harbor. "You built a throne of bones, but you forgot to check who was sharpening the blade beneath it."
He tossed back the rest of the scotch and reached for his jacket. It was time to start consolidating power before the sunrise. He walked out of the office, locking the heavy glass door behind him, completely unaware that across the city, the lion was wide awake—and the hunt had just begun.
