Chapter 18 - The Final Orders
Dominic rolled his chair forward two inches, the heavy wheels making a sharp, deliberate sound against the polished hardwood floor of the office. He looked down at Victor, whose face was pale, slick with cold sweat, and twisted in a mixture of pain and impotent fury.
"You won't get away with this, Dominic," Victor spat out, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to push himself up against the wood paneling. "The commission... the council in the city... they won't let a cripple run the syndicate. They'll tear you apart piece by piece the moment word gets out about tonight."
"The commission answers to whoever controls the shipping lanes, the port authorities, and the capital reserves," Dominic replied, his voice flat, quiet, and utterly devoid of hesitation. "And as of four o'clock this morning, every single asset you tried to siphon off has been frozen and transferred back to my holding accounts. The council isn't going to tear me apart, Uncle. They are going to line up to kiss the ring, exactly as they did before you decided to test my resolve."
Dominic turned his head slightly, raising his voice just enough to carry across the open-plan office. "Vince."
"Boss?" Vince stepped forward instantly, his eyes locked on his employer.
"Have the boys from Brooklyn secure the main gates and prep the transport convoy. We’re moving the remaining inventory to the secure docks in Queens before the port authority shifts change at seven." Dominic paused, his eyes returning to Victor. "And pack my uncle into the back of the secondary van. He’s going on a very long, very permanent vacation to a quiet estate upstate—somewhere with high stone walls and absolutely no telephone service."
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Victor’s eyes widened in sudden, absolute terror as he realized what awaited him. "You can't do this! I'm family—"
"Family is what kept you breathing this long," Dominic interrupted coldly, spinning his wheelchair around with a sharp, practiced flick of his wrists. "Consider your debt collected in full."
