Chapter 36
AXEL’S POV:
The Manhattan docks recked of salt, rust, and a thin veil of danger that no amount of floodlights could dispel. My boots clicked against the worn concrete as I stepped off the private pier, the chill of the night cutting through the black wool of my
coat.
Four grueling hours of oversight had passed. My team and I had inspected every corner of the seaport, ensuring the perimeter was secure, every guard in place, and all surveillance equipment operational. I never left things to chance. Not there. Not that night. The shipment had finally arrived–three massive cargo ships docked at my Manhattan seaport. That location was a fortress. I controlled the authorities, paid off anyone who mattered, and left the rest too terrified to intervene. No one dared interfere.
I stopped at the edge of the docks, letting the scene unfold. The air smelled of salt and iron, a mix of the ocean breeze and the lingering scent of metal containers baking under industrial lights. Three ships, their massive hulls painted with the logos of international trade, loomed in the harbor. Cranes swung with rhythmic groans, offloading containers stacked high with the goods I’d been tracking for months. Beneath the harsh glow of industrial floodlights, trucks waited in neat rows, their engines purring.
Apart from my men, who flanked the place, Bruno Filippo had his crew there too.
Ryan appeared at my side. “Perimeter’s secure. Our men are posted at all entrances. Bruno’s crew is milling around, but they’re keeping their distance.”
I nodded once. “Good,”
My gaze went to the shipment being lowered onto the dock, but my thoughts drifted elsewhere. Despite the buzz of activity, I was thinking about Avery. Specifically, the tattoo on her back.
It didn’t add up. No records. No visits to a tattoo parlor. Nothing in her past hinted at it. I’d had her investigated thoroughly -every detail of her life from birth to prison laid bare. Her back had always been unmarked. So where did the ink come from? Was it new? Or had she hidden it all along? The design itself haunted me–its almost sacred pattern etched into my memory. It wasn’t random. It had meaning. And I was determined to find out what it was.
“Axel?” Ryan’s called out.
I glanced at him. “What?”
“The truck with the lead container is ready for inspection.”
I followed him across the dock, the sounds of machinery and low voices filling the air.
Then, like a bad punchline to a joke no one asked for, Bruno Filippo made his entrance.
The screech of tires tore through the steady activity, and every head on the dock turned toward the garish Lamborghini Urus skidding to a halt near the trucks. It was neon green, because of course it was, and Bruno stepped out with all the flair of a man who’d never had to question his own mediocrity.
Gold glinted everywhere–the over–the–top necklace with a wheel charm that must’ve weighed at least ten pounds, a gold watch big enough to blind someone, and, of course, the ridiculous gold tooth he couldn’t stop flashing. Subtlety had never been his forte.
“Axel, my man!” Bruno bellowed, spreading his arms wide like we were old friends meeting for coffee. His gold chains caught the light, the oversized pendant swinging with his every exaggerated step.
I didn’t move. I didn’t even blink. I didn’t bother with pleasantries. “You’re late.”
He ignored me, pulling me into an overly enthusiastic hug. “Good to see you too. Damn, you’ve been busy, huh? What’s all
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Chapter 36
this for? Big plans?”
I stepped back, brushing imaginary dirt off my sleeve. “You know how I feel about questions, Bruno. The less you know, the better for everyone.”
Bruno chuckled, unfazed. “Ah, the mystery man as always. Fine, fine. Let’s get to it.”
If he noticed–or cared–that I was less than thrilled by his presence, he didn’t show it. He grinned, teeth flashing against the backdrop of his obnoxiously expensive outfit. His jacket was some kind of red velvet monstrosity, and his shoes shone like polished obsidian.
“Big night, huh?” he repeated, clapping his hands together. “Look at this operation. Efficient as hell. I love it.”
I glanced at Ryan, who was doing an impressive job of keeping his expression neutral. “Is there a reason you’re here, Bruno?” “Relax, my friend,” Bruno said, throwing an arm around my shoulders like he hadn’t just violated every unspoken rule of personal space. “I just wanted to see the magic in action. You’ve got something special here, Axel. Something worth protecting.”
I shrugged off his arm, my gaze locking onto his. “You don’t touch me. You don’t touch my operation. And you don’t call me ‘friend.’ Are we clear?”
Bruno’s grin faltered for half a second before he recovered, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Crystal.”
We walked toward one of the containers as its doors creaked open. Ryan stood nearby, his imposing frame illuminated by the harsh light. As soon as Bruno spotted him, he jumped back, letting out a shriek that echoed across the dock. Bruno must have missed noticing Ryan’s presence earlier because Bruno was busy chirping.
“Jesus, Axel! Does he always have to be here?” Bruno exclaimed, clutching his chest dramatically. “The guy looks like he eats souls for breakfast.”
Ryan didn’t react. He never did. His job wasn’t to talk. It was to ensure no one left this place alive if I didn’t want them to.
“Enough theatrics,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. Ryan handed me a heavy–duty flashlight and the necessary protective gear -a thick lab coat, industrial gloves, and a NIOSH–approved respirator mask. The raw materials we dealt with were toxic in their unrefined state. Exposure could be lethal, which was why we used disposable labor–locals and the elderly from remote areas. No one asked questions when they disappeared.
Once suited up, I stepped into the container, the air inside heavy with a bitter, medicinal scent.
