Chapter 4 - The Price of Getting Out
Patricia ended the call.
For a moment, rain was the only sound.
Then Dante’s phone rang.
His operations supervisor was shouting over an alarm.
“There are men at the South Docks.
Warehouse Three.
They’re telling our people to stay inside.”
Dante looked at the time.
11:18.
Carlo hadn’t waited until midnight.
“Get everyone out,” he said.
“They’re holding the loading gates.”
“Use the street doors.”
“We’ll lose the trucks.”
“Leave the trucks.”
A pause.
“Dante, there’s almost twelve million—”
“Are you asking what a driver is worth?”
“No.”
“Then get them out.”
He stayed on the line while the supervisor shouted instructions.
Beside him, Serena watched water run from his hair onto his collar.
This was the man her father called an animal.
This was also the man who had built his power inside a brutal system.
She knew both things could be true.
A black sedan stopped beyond the construction fence.
Elias checked the driver before opening the back door.
“My brother’s car.
No company tracker.”
Dante helped Serena inside.
Patricia climbed in after her.
Only then did the supervisor return.
“Everybody accounted for.
One broken wrist.
No one left inside.”
Dante lowered his head.
Across the city, something orange flashed beneath the clouds.
They drove to a small commercial garage Elias owned under his own name.
It smelled of oil, damp concrete, and old coffee.
Serena sat on a folding chair while Dante rinsed dust from a scrape on her foot.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said.
He looked up.
“I know.”
Her eyes filled.
The garage television showed smoke rising above the river.
Patricia stood in front of the screen.
“Your father said the warehouses would be empty.”
Serena stared at her.
“You knew about the fire?”
“I knew about a business transfer.”
“A business transfer with people locked inside?”
Patricia’s mouth trembled.
“He said Dante would never cooperate.”
Dante set down the clean cloth.
“What business transfer?”
Patricia looked between them.
Then her eyes caught the crushed envelope sticking from his jacket.
“Those papers,” she whispered.
“What about them?”
“Vincent knew about the divorce before I came here.
He said the financial review had to be stopped.”
Dante stood.
Only one person had received his instructions that afternoon.
Arthur Pendleton.
His phone rang before he could say the name.
May you like
The lawyer’s voice came through thin and breathless.
“Dante, whatever you do, don’t trust the settlement.”
