Chapter 5 - The Trap at the Docks
The rain returned by Friday evening, hammering against the warehouse roofs along the Chicago riverfront like a drumbeat of war. Inside Warehouse 4, shadows danced among towering crates of imported electronics and luxury goods.
Dominic Rosetti stood near the loading bay, his dark trench coat soaked at the hem, staring out at the rain-slicked concrete. Behind him stood Marcus and a dozen elite guards, their weapons drawn and safety catches clicked off.
"They're coming, Boss," Marcus murmured, checking his watch. "Paul's logistics team cleared the perimeter ten minutes ago."
"Let them walk right into the center," Dominic replied calmly, his voice echoing in the cavernous space.
Hidden behind a stack of steel shipping containers twenty yards away, Lena peered through a small gap, her heart pounding against her ribs. Beside her sat Lily, who was holding a miniature stuffed wolf and whispering encouragement to Lena.
"Daddy's going to catch the bad guys, right Lena?" Lily whispered softly.
"He's going to catch them all, sweetie. Just stay low like we practiced," Lena whispered back, keeping her hand steady on Lily's shoulder.
A muffled explosion echoed from the outer gates. The heavy iron doors groaned and burst open, revealing a heavily armed strike team wearing black tactical gear. At the front marched Victor and Paul, their faces twisted into arrogant grins.
"It's over, Rosetti!" Victor shouted over the sound of the rain, raising his submachine gun. "Your empire is finished! The New York board voted you out, and these docks belong to us now!"
Dominic didn't flinch. He slowly turned around, his hands resting casually in his coat pockets. "Victor. I always knew you had ambitions above your station. But treason? That's an expensive hobby."
"Call off your guards, Dominic, and we might let you walk away with a pension," Paul sneered, stepping forward.
Dominic let out a cold, humorless chuckle. "You really think I didn't know about your little meetings in the garden?"
Victor's grin faltered. His eyes darted frantically toward the shadows. "What are you talking about —"
"I'm talking about the fact that you underestimated a former waitress," Dominic interrupted, his voice cutting like glass. He raised two fingers.
Instantly, floodlights blazed to life overhead, turning the dark warehouse into broad daylight. Laser sights from a dozen sniper rifles perched on the catwalks red-dotted every single member of the New York strike team. Marcus and his men stepped out from behind the crates, weapons locked and loaded, completely surrounding the traitors.
"Drop your weapons. Now," Marcus commanded, his voice echoing authoritatively.
Victor turned pale as paper, his gun trembling in his grip. He looked at Paul, then back at Dominic. "You set us up."
"No," Dominic said, walking forward with slow, deliberate steps until he stood inches from Victor. "You walked right into the trap you built for yourselves."
Victor snarled in desperation, raising his pistol toward Dominic's chest. "If I'm going down, I'm taking you with —"
Bang.
A single shot rang out. Not from Dominic, but from the catwalk above. Marcus's rifle found its mark, and Victor's weapon clattered harmlessly onto the concrete as he dropped to his knees, clutching his shoulder.
Paul threw his hands up in surrender immediately, dropping to the floor. "Don't shoot! I surrender! I swear!"
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Guards swarmed the area, kicking away weapons and slapping heavy steel handcuffs onto the traitors. The crisis was over in a matter of seconds.
Dominic exhaled slowly, running a hand through his dark hair, before turning his gaze directly toward Lena and Lily hiding behind the containers. A profound sense of relief washed over his features as he walked over and extended a hand to help them up.
