Chapter 10 - The Underworld Wakes
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Gabriel stood up and turned to his guards. The quiet, calculating businessman was gone, replaced entirely by the ruthless apex predator of the city's underworld.
"Marco," Gabriel snapped.
One of the massive men stepped forward. "Boss."
"Call the capos. I want every warehouse, shipping container, and abandoned factory on the East Side turned upside down within the hour," Gabriel ordered, his voice cracking like a whip. "Find Silas. Find his pits."
"He's heavily armed, Gabriel," Marco warned. "His guys run illegal weapons alongside the animal trade."
"Then bring heavier weapons," Gabriel replied coldly. He looked at Brier. "Stay here with Mrs. Fam. Lock the front doors of the diner. You are under my protection now. No one will touch you."
Gabriel swept out of the back room, his black coat billowing behind him.
Within thirty minutes, the criminal ecosystem of the city was violently disrupted. Gabriel Rossi’s syndicate did not ask polite questions. Black SUVs rolled into the East Side. Dive bars were emptied. Known associates of Silas’s smuggling ring were pulled out of their beds, dragged into soundproof basements, and given exactly two minutes to speak before the brass knuckles came out.
The city's police force miraculously looked the other way, receiving quiet orders from the top brass to ignore the sudden surge of syndicate activity. When Gabriel Rossi went to war, the smart money stayed out of the crossfire.
In a dimly lit warehouse basement miles away, Silas stood over a heavily reinforced steel cage.
Inside, Brutus was a terrifying sight. The dog had thrown himself against the steel bars so many times his muzzle was bleeding. He didn't cower. He let out a deep, continuous, chest-rattling snarl that made Silas's thugs nervously step back.
"Keep him separated from the fighting stock," Silas ordered, taking a drag from a cigarette. "He's too valuable. I have a buyer from a cartel in Sinaloa flying in tonight. They want a guard dog that can tear a man in half. This beast is perfect."
"He won't eat, boss," one of the thugs said, holding a catch-pole defensively.
"Let him starve for a day. He'll break," Silas laughed, walking away. "They all break eventually."
Silas’s burner phone rang. He pulled it out, annoyed. "What?"
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"Boss," a panicked voice screamed over the line. "Rossi's men just hit our south warehouse! They burned the product and broke Jimmy's legs! They're looking for you!"
Silas froze, his cigarette dropping to the concrete floor. "Gabriel Rossi? Why the hell is Rossi coming after us?"
