Chapter 7 - The Confrontation at the Docks
The Duca family shipping terminal in Brooklyn was dark, the rain lashing against the corrugated iron roofs of the massive warehouses. Inside the private office overlooking the dark water, Julian Duca sat tied to a heavy steel chair, his expensive suit ruined by grease and sweat.
Matteo stood over him, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his hands covered in his brother's blood.
"Twenty-two years, Julian," Matteo whispered, his voice dangerously calm. "I gave you the docks. I gave you the outer boroughs. And you tried to kill my son."
"He's a freak, Matteo!" Julian spat, blood spraying from his lip. "He doesn't speak! He's a broken child! The family needs a strong leader, not a man who spends his nights crying over a mute kid in a penthouse!"
From the shadows of the office, Cameron stepped forward, holding Leo by the hand. She had refused to leave the boy at the penthouse, knowing that the only place he was truly safe was beside her.
Leo looked at his uncle. He didn't flinch. He didn't hide behind Cameron’s legs. He took three steps forward, his tiny red plaid pajamas bright against the dark concrete floor of the office.
He looked Julian directly in the eye, his small face hardening into the exact expression his father wore when he was about to eliminate a rival.
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Slowly, deliberately, Leo opened his mouth. The silence that had held his throat captive for two years finally broke.
"Bad man," Leo said. His voice was small, rusty from disuse, but it carried clearly over the sound of the rain. "No more tea."
