Chapter 15 - The New Order
The Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was bathed in crystal light, but the atmosphere inside was thick with tension and whispered panic. Fourteen men and women—the remaining heads of the city's ruling families—sat around an expansive oval table carved from black marble. Empty seats marked the absence of Sterling and Dominic.
"We have to divide the harbor immediately," shouted one of the younger bosses, slamming his palm against the mahogany. "The shipping lanes are open! If we don't seize Dominic's routes by noon, the federal marshals will seize the entire coastline!"
"And who takes the fall for Elena Sterling?" an older woman asked sharply. "The police have found nine bodies in the subway line! The city is screaming for blood!"
Before anyone could answer, the heavy double oak doors of the ballroom swung open with a resounding boom that echoed like thunder against the high ceilings.
Every head turned.
Dominic walked into the room. His clothes were stained with rain and smoke, his cheek split by a clean, dried laceration, but his presence commanded absolute, paralyzing terror. Behind him stood Viktor, towering, bloodied, and holding a combat shotgun across his chest.
The room froze. Several bosses instinctively reached for their waistbands, but Dominic didn't even draw his weapon. He simply walked to the head of the table, pulled out the high-backed leather chair that had belonged to Thomas Sterling, and sat down.
He tossed the bloody titanium cylinder onto the center of the table. It rolled lazily across the polished surface before coming to a stop against a crystal water carafe.
"Sterling is dead," Dominic announced, his voice slicing through the terrified quiet of the room. "Vance is dead. And the archives detailing every off-shore account, every federal deal, and every betrayal committed by this Council are currently sitting on a private encrypted server under my sole control."
Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Even the most aggressive bosses looked at the table, their breathing shallow and rapid.
"From this moment forward," Dominic continued, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes locking onto each boss one by one with chilling intensity, "the docks belong to me. The transit lines belong to me. And anyone who looks at a woman or child as collateral in their business will end up in the sewer where Sterling currently rots."
He leaned back, his eyes narrowing into slits of pure, lethal authority.
"Are there any objections?"
The silence stretched for ten seconds, thick and absolute, before the oldest boss at the table slowly bowed his head in submission. One by one, every syndicate head around the oval table followed suit, lowering their gazes to the floor.
Dominic rose from the chair, straightening the lapels of his coat. "Good. Clear this room. We have work to do."
May you like
As Dominic turned to walk toward the terrace overlooking the city he now entirely owned, a low, metallic chime echoed from his pocket. He pulled out the phone. It was an unlisted, encrypted text message from a rail station three hundred miles west.
They found me again. Help.
