Chapter 9 - The New Rules
The war with the Voss faction didn't last through the week.
By Sunday morning, the remaining captains of the South Side had surrendered their railyard leases, their union seats, and their dock concessions to the Mercer crew without a single shot being fired.
They didn't come to Leo’s office to negotiate.
They sent their lawyers with signed deeds and cashier's checks, asking only for a guarantee that the "woman in the blue coat" would not be seen near their homes.
Leo’s organization transformed overnight.
The thick-necked enforcers who used to laugh in the hallway outside his office now stood against the walls with their heads down when Quinn passed. They didn't call her "sweetheart." They didn't offer to carry her bag. They moved out of her way as if she were a high-voltage wire trailing through standing water.
On Monday morning, Leo sat behind his desk in the West Side office.
The room no longer smelled like meat and bleach. Leo had installed fresh leather chairs, new lighting, and a dark oak floor that shone like glass under the lamps.
Dom walked in, carrying a fresh leather briefcase.
"The Joliet accounts are cleared, boss," Dom said, his tone entirely free of its old arrogance. He didn't look at Quinn, who was sitting in the corner near the window, quietly cleaning the sights of Tommy's Sig Sauer with an oily cloth.
"Good," Leo said. "Leave the papers."
Dom set the briefcase down, hesitated for a second, and then looked at Leo. "The Commission in New York called this morning."
Leo raised an eyebrow. "Salazar?"
"Yes," Dom swallowed hard. "He wants to know if the rumors about the Marlowe Hotel are true. He wants to know if you're planning on moving into the North Side territory."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him we're very happy where we are," Dom said quickly. "And I told him that if he wants to discuss borders, he can come to Chicago himself. Without his guards."
Leo smiled—that sharp, knife-like smile that hadn't been seen since before Tommy’s death.
"Good boy, Dom. You're learning."
Dom nodded nervously, bowed his head slightly toward the corner where Quinn sat, and hurried out of the office, closing the heavy steel door behind him as quietly as a priest leaving a confessional.
Leo leaned back in his leather chair, watching the sunlight cut through the window blinds, landing in bright, golden bars across Quinn’s small hands.
"You like the new office?" Leo asked.
"It's clean," she said, without looking up from her work. "Fewer places for grease to hide."
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"You don't have to stay in the corner, Quinn. You can take Tommy’s old desk in the hall."
"I like the corner," she said softly. "From here, I can see the door, the window, and the shadow behind your chair."
