BLOODLINES BORN IN SHADOW: A PATRIARCH RECLAIMS HIS OWN

Sal didn't hesitate. Without a word, he fired a single bullet into the tablet screen, blowing the electronics into flaming sparks and severing the broadcast. Julian shrieked as plastic fragments cut into his palms, falling off the crate into the foul water.

Sal grabbed the younger man by the throat, hauling him up out of the mud with one arm, pinning him against the damp brick wall of the subway vault.

""Who owns the drone?"" Sal’s voice dropped so low it felt like a vibration in the bedrock. ""Tell me the frequency, Julian, or I will leave pieces of you along every stop on this line.""

""It's... it's automated!"" Julian sputtered, choking against Sal’s iron grip. ""The Ouroboros network! It's an autonomous surface-to-air battery stationed on a private yacht off Long Island Sound! They don't want to shoot it down, Sal! They want you to make the trade!""

""Trade what?""

""Your assets. Your shipping manifests. The deep-water docks in Newark,"" Julian gasped, clawing at Sal’s wrist. ""They don't care about your street rackets! They want the trade routes! If you sign over the holding companies, the missile stands down! If you refuse, the helicopter burns at ten thousand feet!""

Sal felt a cold fire ignite behind his ribs. For forty years, people had tried to extort him—rival bosses, corrupt federal prosecutors, foreign syndicates. But none had ever threatened his blood.

Sal dropped Julian onto the tracks, pulling a rugged satellite phone from his coat pocket. He dialed a scrambled number that bypassed commercial cellular networks entirely.

A gravelly, accented voice answered after half a ring. ""Moretti. I thought you were dead.""

""I need a naval favor, Admiral,"" Sal spoke into the receiver, ignoring Julian completely. ""The yacht sitting five miles off Montauk Point. Unflagged, private security registration. It has an active missile platform targeted on my personal aircraft.""

A brief pause hung on the line, followed by the clanking of mechanical consoles. ""That vessel has been violating our maritime radar protocols all week. We lacked jurisdiction to engage without direct provocation.""

""Consider this your provocation,"" Sal said coldly. ""Wipe it off the water.""

""And what do I get in return, Salvatore?""

""The names of every politician on their payroll in Washington.""

A dark chuckle came through the earpiece. ""Splash inbound in forty seconds.""