Chapter 37 - The Ghost at the Docks
The western shipping terminal was a labyrinth of towering steel containers and slick, rain-washed pavement. Under the cover of a dense midnight fog, a convoy of unmarked vans slipped past the rusted perimeter security gates. The rogue operatives, led by a desperate syndicate lieutenant named Dante, believed they could dismantle the Rossi supply chains before dawn.
Dante stepped out onto the damp concrete, signaling his men to fan out across the piers. They moved with cautious arrogance, expecting a disorganized scramble from guards unprepared for a multi-front assault. Instead, as they approached warehouse block seven, the massive overhead lights flooded the area with blinding white brilliance.
The doors remained shut. No guards stepped forward to exchange gunfire. Instead, the facility's high-powered public address system crackled to life, breaking the tense silence with a sound that chilled Dante's blood.
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A voice echoed across the open docks—clear, authoritative, and entirely unyielding. It was not Gabriel's voice, nor was it Don Salvatore's. It was Tessa's voice, speaking fluent, rapid, and aggressive Sicilian dialect.
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