Chapter 14
The tense peace of the estate was violently shattered three days later.
Dominic was sitting at the head of the mahogany table in his soundproof council room, reviewing logistics with Silas and the senior capos. The bright, neutral lighting illuminated a massive digital map of the city's waterfront.
"The Sinclair union bosses are staging a wildcat strike at Pier 7," Silas reported, his fair skin flushed with anger. "They are demanding a renegotiation of the loading contracts. Three of our freighters are sitting in the harbor, bleeding thousands of dollars an hour."
Dominic’s sharply defined jawline tightened. The artistic tattoos on his hands flexed as he gripped the edge of the table. "Arthur is testing the water," he murmured, his voice incredibly low. "He believes a work stoppage will force me to the negotiating table to apologize for his daughter."
"Do we authorize a tactical team to clear the pier, Boss?" a capo asked eagerly.
"No," Dominic replied, his eyes narrowing into lethal slits. "A tactical team implies a war. This is not a war. This is a disciplinary action."
He stood up, shrugging off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves. "Silas. Bring the car. We are going to the docks. I will speak to the union boss personally."
The black armored SUV tore through the city, arriving at Pier 7 under the harsh, bright glare of the midday sun. Hundreds of longshoremen were gathered near the loading bays, blocking the massive cranes. At the center of the mob stood Frank Russo, a burly, aggressive union leader loyal to the Sinclair family.
Dominic stepped out of the vehicle, flanked only by Silas. He did not bring an army. He brought the sheer, terrifying weight of the Vale name.
The crowd of hardened dockworkers parted instantly, their shouts dying in their throats as the apex predator walked through their ranks. Domenico stopped ten feet from Russo, his cold, unblinking eyes locking onto the union boss.
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"Mr. Vale," Russo sneered, attempting to project false bravado. "We have a labor dispute. The men aren't working until the contracts are rewritten."
"There is no dispute, Frank," Dominic whispered, his voice carrying effortlessly over the silence of the pier. "There is only a loaded ship. And a very short drop into the harbor."
