549 In the underworld of Providence, alliances were sealed with blood, shipping manifests, and marriages. The engagement of Daniel Carver to Claire Whitlock was supposed to be the final piece of a puzzle that would grant the Whitlock shipping empire unrestricted access to the Carver-controlled docks. It was a multi-million-dollar transaction disguised as a romance, celebrated tonight under the golden glow of the Carver mansion's chandeliers.

The night the SS Northern Star docked was cold and thick with fog.

Daniel had ordered Hannah to stay at the mansion under heavy guard, but she couldn't rest. She paced the master suite, her hands clenching and unclenching. Her baby was active, rolling and kicking against her ribs as if sensing her mother’s high anxiety.

At the Providence docks, Daniel stood in the shadow of a massive crane, his black overcoat shielding him from the freezing rain. Beside him stood his most trusted men, their weapons drawn but kept low.

The ship had docked twenty minutes ago, and already, a fleet of unmarked Whitlock trucks had lined up to receive the cargo. Arthur Whitlock himself was on the scene, directing the men with frantic, desperate energy.

"Move it!" Arthur hissed into the dark. "If Carver’s men show up, we bleed them!"

"You're already bleeding, Arthur," a voice called out from the fog.

Daniel stepped into the light of the warehouse lamps, his face an emotionless mask. Within seconds, his men surrounded the docks, cutting off the Whitlock trucks.

Arthur spun around, his hand reaching for his coat, but stopped when he saw the red laser sights painting his chest. "Carver! You have no authority here. This is a private transaction!"

"Nothing on these docks is private from me," Daniel said, walking slowly toward him. "Open the containers."

"I will do no such thing," Arthur snarled. "And if you touch us, the council will—"

"The council is already watching," Daniel interrupted. He gestured to the shadows, and three elderly men in expensive overcoats stepped forward. They were the elders of the Providence syndicate—the men who made the final decisions.

"We received an anonymous tip," one of the elders said, his voice dry and old. "An audit trail showing that the Whitlock family has been importing synthetic opioids through this harbor, bypassing our agreed-upon trade laws and putting all of us in the crosshairs of the federal government."

Arthur’s face went pale. "It's a lie! Carver forged those documents!"

"We don't just have documents, Arthur," Daniel said. He nodded to his men, who pried open the doors of the lead container. Inside, hidden behind boxes of legitimate cargo, were dozens of military-grade weapons and crates of uncut narcotics.

But Daniel wasn't looking at the drugs. He walked past Arthur, straight toward the small security office at the end of the pier. He kicked the door open.

Inside, tied to a wooden chair, beat-up but alive, was Caleb.

"Caleb!" Daniel exclaimed, rushing forward to cut the ropes.