Chapter 4 - Unraveling the Web
The tablet screen glowed with crisp, high-definition infrared footage captured by the overhead security camera.
On the screen, crystal clear against the dim lighting of the warehouse bay, Declan Vance and a burly enforcer named Kincaid could be seen frantically hauling thick stacks of bound ledgers out of crate four-eighty-two. They tossed the documents into the open bed of Declan’s black Ford F-150 parked just outside the rolling bay doors of dock six, covering them hastily with a dirty blue tarp.
Dominic paused the video, the frozen image showing Declan grinning as he handed Kincaid a wad of cash.
“Well,” Dominic remarked dryly, sliding the tablet back into his coat pocket. “That certainly clarifies the inventory discrepancy.”
Callum slowly lowered his arm. Declan collapsed onto the concrete floor in a coughing, hacking heap, gasping frantically for air as he clutched his bruised throat.
“Kincaid,” Callum commanded quietly.
Two of Callum’s enforcers moved out of the shadows like phantoms, grabbing Kincaid—who had been lurking near the rear forklift—and shoving him roughly to his knees beside Declan. Kincaid’s nose was already slightly swollen from where Sadie’s clipboard had caught him earlier that evening, though neither man had realized she was the one who had landed the blow until now.
“Boss, listen to me—!” Kincaid stammered, trembling as a silver-barreled pistol was casually unholstered by Miller.
“Silence,” Callum said.
He walked slowly around the two kneeling men, his leather shoes clicking rhythmically against the concrete floor. He pulled out a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiped his fingers as if he had just touched something foul, and dropped the cloth onto Declan’s head.
“Declan,” Callum said softly. “When I took over my uncle’s territory, I offered you a choice. I gave you a seat at the table. I gave you control over the logistics terminals, a clean salary, and absolute protection, provided you respected one fundamental law.”
Declan pressed his forehead against the cold concrete, his voice shaking uncontrollably. “Loyalty, boss... absolute loyalty...”
“And yet,” Callum continued, his voice dropping an octave into a chilling, razor-sharp register, “you decided to partner with remnants of Salvatore’s old crew to rebuild an unauthorized narcotics pipeline right under my nose. You used my container terminals to smuggle poison into this city, and when an innocent auditor happened to stumble upon your little bookkeeping errors, you threatened her life.”
“She wasn't supposed to look in that crate!” Declan cried out, abandoning all pretense. “Salvatore left those accounts hidden! We were just taking back what was ours—!”
“You took nothing,” Callum interrupted smoothly. “Because as of right now, everything you thought you owned belongs to me.”
Callum gestured slightly with two fingers.
Miller stepped forward, holding out a thick manila folder containing printed wire routing slips and offshore bank account numbers.
“Dominic,” Callum instructed. “Have our financial auditors freeze every single asset registered to Declan and his shell companies by midnight. Transfer the remainder of his maritime shares into the corporate fund managed by Ms. Miller.”
Sadie blinked in astonishment, stepping forward from the shadows. “My fund? Mr. Russo, I’m an art authenticator, I don't run maritime shipping trusts—!”
“You do now,” Callum said calmly, turning to look at her. “Effective immediately, you are the new director of corporate acquisitions and provenance oversight for Callaway Holdings. Your salary has just been multiplied by ten, and your office is being moved to the penthouse suite on Michigan Avenue.”
Declan let out a desperate, strangled sob from the floor. “And us? Boss... what are you going to do with us?”
Callum looked down at him with the cold, detached pity one might reserve for a stray dog carrying a terminal disease.
“Miller,” Callum said quietly. “Take them out to the freighter docks. Put them on a one-way container ship heading for South America. Make sure they arrive with absolutely nothing—no money, no phones, and no aliases.”
“Got it, boss,” Miller grinned, hauling Kincaid up by his collar with one hand while another enforcer dragged Declan up by his belt loops.
As the two traitors were hauled screaming and thrashing toward the dark, echoing exit of the warehouse, the heavy steel doors slammed shut behind them, cutting off their cries against the howling wind.
The cavernous warehouse went dead silent.
Callum turned slowly to face Sadie.
May you like
She stood alone in the center of the vast concrete floor, the oversized wool blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders, looking up at him with a complex mixture of awe, exhaustion, and lingering terror.
“Well,” Sadie whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “That’s one way to handle an HR dispute.”
