Chapter 8 - The Shadow at Pier 42|
At eleven o'clock that night, the rain returned to Chicago in relentless, icy sheets.
Pier 42 was a dark, cavernous complex of corrugated steel warehouses and rusted shipping cranes extending out into the black waters of Lake Michigan.
Rhett stood inside the darkened upper office of Warehouse B, wearing a dark wool coat, a high-caliber tactical pistol resting in a shoulder holster under his arm. Marcus stood beside him, holding a satellite phone.
Below them, on the concrete floorboards of the warehouse, six Valon enforcers held Arthur Cain and his four private security guards at gunpoint.
Arthur Cain was kneeling on the concrete, his expensive suit soaked in rainwater, his silver hair plastered to his forehead.
"Valon!" Arthur roared, coughing as rain blew through the broken warehouse windows. "You can't do this! The city council knows I'm here! If I disappear, the federal task force will tear your shipping lines apart!"
Rhett didn't answer immediately. He walked slowly down the iron catwalk stairs, his heavy leather boots making a slow, echoing sound against the metal.
Step. Step. Step.
He stopped five feet in front of the kneeling man.
"The federal task force isn't looking at my shipping lines, Arthur," Rhett said smoothly, his deep voice carrying over the sound of the storm outside. "They are currently raiding your home in River Forest based on three years of embezzled port authority ledgers I handed to the US Attorney twenty minutes ago."
Arthur's face went completely pale. "What?!"
"You're ruined, Arthur," Rhett whispered, bending down until he was at eye level with the silver-haired man. "Your son is sitting in a hospital bed with ruined hands, your personal wealth is frozen, and your political protection is gone."
Arthur stared at Rhett, his eyes wide with sudden, terrifying realization.
"Tyler..." Arthur stammered, his lips trembling. "You... you did that to my boy? Why?! What did Tyler ever do to you?!"
Rhett reached inside his dark coat, pulling out a small, laminated corporate ID card.
It was Isa's security badge from Valon Global Enterprises—the one she had dropped on the floor of her ruined apartment four days ago.
May you like
Rhett tossed the card onto the wet concrete in front of Arthur's knees.
"He put his hands on my chief assistant," Rhett said, his voice dropping into a register of pure, unadulterated murder. "And for that, your entire bloodline is erased from this city."
