Chapter 8 - Fire on the Water
The Pier 4 docks on Lake Michigan were a labyrinth of rusted shipping containers, towering cranes, and freezing midnight wind off the water.
Don Salvatore Montigue stepped out of his black bulletproof sedan, surrounded by twenty of his best-armed enforcers. He sneered at the quiet, seemingly abandoned loading bay.
"Victor Blackwood thinks he can disrespect my blood?" Salvatore spat, gesturing toward the main warehouse. "Burn the containers. Plant the charges. Let him wake up to a billion dollars in ashes."
The Montigue enforcers fanned out across the concrete, raising cans of industrial accelerant and setting explosive detonators along the rows of high-value cargo.
"Now!" Salvatore barked.
Click.
Suddenly, every single floodlight across the entire expanse of Pier 4 clicked on at once, blindingly bright, turning the dark night into broad daylight.
Salvatore shielded his eyes, cursing loudly. "What is this?!"
From atop the towering shipping containers, the dark silhouettes of dozens of Blackwood syndicate enforcers appeared, their assault rifles leveled downward, locking the Montigue men in an inescapable crossfire.
And from the shadows of the central warehouse, Victor Blackwood walked forward alone, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, his dark overcoat billowing in the fierce lake wind.
"Looking for me, Salvatore?" Victor’s voice echoed across the concrete docks, amplified by the cold night air.
Salvatore’s face turned purple with rage and sudden, creeping dread. "It’s a trap! Kill him! Fire!"
Before the Montigue men could even raise their weapons, a coordinated hail of suppressive fire rained down from the containers. It was a clinical, merciless execution. Within three minutes, every single Montigue enforcer was disarmed, kneeling on the cold concrete with their hands behind their heads.
Salvatore stumbled backward, his gun slipping from his trembling fingers as Victor walked right up to him.
"Your daughter is a spoiled, murderous psychopath," Victor said, his voice dangerously calm as he stared down the aging crime lord. "And you are a fool for listening to her. The Montigue syndicate is finished, Salvatore. Your assets are frozen, your ports are seized, and your legacy is dead."
Victor turned his back on the broken old man and signaled to Marcus. "Tie them up and hand them over to federal authorities on corruption charges. Let the law finish what we started."
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Victor turned around, climbed back into his waiting vehicle, and ordered the driver to step on the gas.
The war was over before it even began. Chicago belonged entirely to the Blackwoods.
