Chapter 7 - Unlikely Alliances
Frankie Varga was the head of the West Side Syndicate—a brutal, old-school faction that had fought a bloody turf war against Dominic’s father twenty years ago. Since taking control of the Castell family, Dominic had maintained a cold, fragile truce with Varga, sharing territory lines along the river in exchange for mutual non-interference.
The call connected on the fourth ring.
"Castell," Varga's gravelly, whiskey-soaked voice rasped through the speaker. "I heard the Astor Grand lost its lights tonight. Word on the street is the feds are tearing down your front doors."
"The feds are the least of your concerns tonight, Frankie," Dominic said smoothly, leaning back against the leather headrest. "The Moretti family from Detroit is currently crossing the river bridge into your territory."
A long silence followed on the line.
"Detroit doesn't cross the river," Varga said, his tone dropping into a dangerous quiet. "We have an agreement."
"Vincent made a new agreement," Dominic revealed coldly. "He sold the docks to Moretti for fifty percent of the revenue. They're moving fifty soldiers into the South Side yards right now. By sunrise, they'll own the railyards, the cold storage, and your supply lines."
Varga swore loudly over the line. "Where are you, Dominic?"
"I'm ten minutes away from your warehouse on 14th Street," Dominic said. "I have the forensic ledgers proving the transaction. I need twenty men, two heavy transports, and clear passage to the river house. In exchange, I give you full corporate title to the Moretti front companies in Detroit."
Silence returned to the line. Dominic knew Varga was calculating—weighing fifteen years of rivalry against the immediate threat of a Detroit invasion.
"You're bringing a war to my doorstep, Castell," Varga said finally.
"The war is already here, Frankie," Dominic replied. "The only question is whether you want to fight it beside me, or fight it under Moretti's boots tomorrow morning."
"Fourteenth Street," Varga growled. "Ten minutes. If you're lying to me, Castell, I'll put a bullet in you myself before Moretti gets the chance."
The call disconnected.
Dominic lowered the phone and looked at Clara. "We have ten minutes to finalize our strategy."
Clara pulled the encrypted USB flash drive from her pocket, holding it between her thumb and forefinger. "This drive requires a dual-key decryption sequence. One key is on this drive. The other key... is stored in the physical safe inside your father's old office at the river house."
"My father's office has been locked since the day he died," Dominic said, brow furrowing. "I never opened it."
"Vincent tried to open it three days ago," Clara said. "I saw the security logs. He couldn't bypass the mechanical tumbler because your father used a custom lock built by a gunsmith in Milwaukee. But I know the combination, Dominic."
Dominic looked at her with genuine surprise. "How?"
"Because my father kept a copy of the key schematic in his safe deposit box," she said softly. "He always believed that one day, the truth about what happened twenty years ago would need to come out. He didn't build that evidence to destroy your family, Dominic. He built it to destroy the corrupt system that used your family as a pawn."
Dominic stared at her, feeling an overwhelming realization settle over him. For two months, he had viewed Clara as a brilliant outsider—an innocent woman caught in the web of his violent world. But she wasn't an outsider. Her destiny had been intertwined with his since she was fourteen years old.
He reached out, taking her hand in his. His large, rough palm completely enclosed her smaller fingers.
"When this is over," Dominic said, his dark eyes searching hers, "you walk away clean. I'll make sure the feds have full documentation of Vincent's sole responsibility. Your name will be scrubbed from every indictment."
Clara looked at their joined hands, then up into his eyes. "And what about you, Dominic?"
"I stay and clean up the mess," he said quietly.
"No," Clara said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. "If I stay, you stay. If I walk, we walk together. You spent fifteen years living in the dark to protect everyone else. It's time someone protected you."
May you like
Before Dominic could answer, the SUV banked sharply around a corner, pulling into the darkened gravel yard of an abandoned textile factory on 14th Street. High-powered floodlights suddenly snapped on, blinding the driver as three heavy industrial trucks surrounded their vehicle.
Frankie Varga was waiting.
