Chapter 8 - Dominic
The warehouse smells like rust and damp concrete, a suffocating mix that clings to my senses as I step inside. My footsteps echo off the grimy walls, each one deliberate, a sharp reminder of who holds the power in this room. The fluorescent lights above shine weakly, casting erratic shadows across the floor.
In the center of the cavernous space, Adrian Torres sits slumped in a battered chair, his wrists bound tight, his face a patchwork of sweat and blood. He tries to lift his head as I approach, but fear—and Jayden’s earlier handiwork—keeps him down.
“Boss,” Nico greets me, his tone neutral but sharp. He stands a few paces back, arms crossed, his face impassive. Jayden is beside him, spinning a crowbar in one hand like it’s an extension of his arm. He joined me when he was only 17—sharp as a tack, with a memory that never forgets a detail. His loyalty is unshakable, and in all the years since, he’s proven himself time and again, never faltering when the heat is on.
I nod at them, my eyes never leaving Adrian. The man reeks of desperation, though he does his best to mask it under a defiant scowl. It’s almost impressive. Almost.
I take my time walking closer, letting the silence stretch. The tension in the room thickens with every passing second, and I can feel Adrian’s resolve cracking, piece by piece.
“You’ve been busy near my docks,” I say, my voice low, almost conversational. “Care to tell me why before I make this more unpleasant for you?”
Adrian spits onto the concrete floor, the sound sharp and defiant. “Go to hell.”
I don’t react. Instead, I turn to Jayden and give a slight nod. Jayden doesn’t think twice—he steps forward and delivers a brutal swing to Adrian’s ribs with the crowbar. The sickening crunch echoes through the space, followed by Adrian’s strangled gasp of pain.
I lean against a nearby table, crossing my arms as I watch him struggle to catch his breath. “I’ll ask again,” I say, my tone as steady as ever. “What’s Samuel planning at the seaport?”
Adrian coughs, a wet, rasping sound. “I don’t know,” he grits out.
I grab his chin and jerk his face up, forcing him to meet my gaze. I know there’s a shipment coming tomorrow, and I have an idea of what it could be. I just need confirmation. “Wrong answer.”
The truth is, I could end this quickly. I could take the crowbar myself, apply just the right amount of pressure, and break him in minutes. But I don’t. This isn’t just about information—it’s about sending a message.
“You think you’re tough,” I say, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You think you can hold out. But let me tell you something, Adrian. Everyone breaks. The only question is how much it’s going to hurt before you do.”
Adrian’s face flushes, his eyes gleaming with fear even as he struggles to maintain his defiance. His breathing is shallow, each inhale sharp and uneven. I can see the fight in him starting to falter, but it’s not enough. Not yet.
Jayden steps back, waiting for my signal, the crowbar hanging loosely at his side. Nico leans against the wall, arms crossed, his face expressionless. Although he’s relatively new, he knows this game well enough by now—there’s an art to breaking someone, a balance of pain and patience. Too much too fast, and they’ll shut down. Too little, and they’ll think they can outlast you.
“You’re wasting my time,” I say, my tone cold. “And I don’t have the patience to keep asking nicely.”
Adrian laughs—short, bitter, and tinged with desperation. “You think this scares me?” he spits, his voice shaking. “Samuel will kill me if I talk.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And what do you think I’ll do if you don’t?” My voice is soft, almost gentle, but the threat beneath it is unmistakable.
His breath hitches, and I can feel the crack forming in his resolve. He’s starting to realize there’s no way out of this, that his loyalty to Samuel isn’t worth the pain waiting for him here.
I signal Jayden again, and the crowbar swings once more, this time connecting with Adrian’s knee. He screams, the sound raw and guttural, echoing off the warehouse walls. I don’t waver, don’t move, just watch as he writhes in the chair, his face contorted in agony.
“Enough,” I say after a moment, holding up a hand. Jayden steps back, his expression calm, almost bored, as if this is just another day at work.
I grab a chair from the corner of the room, dragging it over with a screech that makes Adrian wince. Sitting down across from him, I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Let’s try this again,” I say, my voice steady. “What’s Samuel planning at the seaport?”
He’s silent for a long moment, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. Then, finally, he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “Shipments. Weapons. He’s bringing them in to arm his crew.”
I nod slowly, absorbing the information. “When?”
Adrian stalls, and I see a trace of defiance return to his eyes. “I don’t—”
Before he can finish, I slam my fist into the armrest of his chair, the sound sharp and startling. “Don’t test me, Adrian,” I snap, my patience wearing thin. “You’ve already lost. The only choice you have left is how much you’re going to suffer before this ends.”
His resolve crumbles, and the words spill out in a rush. “Tomorrow night,” he gasps. “Midnight. Pier 12. That’s all I know, I swear.”
I lean back, studying him. He’s telling the truth—I can see it in his eyes, hear it in the desperation in his voice. But he’s holding back. I can feel it.
“Pier 12,” I repeat slowly, letting the words hang between us. “And what’s Samuel’s endgame? What’s he planning after the shipments?”
“I don’t know,” Adrian says quickly, shaking his head. “He doesn’t tell me everything. I’m just a runner, I swear.”
I narrow my eyes, my gaze boring into him. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not!” he insists, his voice rising in panic. “I told you everything I know!”
I consider pressing further, pushing him until he gives me what I want. But then I remember Hugo’s call from last night—the cryptic warning, the veiled promise of more information to come. Hugo knows something. And it’s certainly bigger than what Adrian can offer. And while I hate relying on him after what happened with Isabella, I know I’ll need his help to piece this together.
“Take him to the safe house,” I say, rising to my feet. My voice is emotionless, detached, the decision made. “We’ll deal with him later.”
Nico and Jayden move without question, hauling Adrian out of the chair. He groans in pain, his body limp between them, but he doesn’t resist. The fight is gone from him now, replaced by a quiet, resigned fear.
As they drag him toward the door, I turn away, leaning against the table and rubbing my temples. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, leaving me with a dull ache behind my eyes. The memory of Adrian’s screams lingers in the room, a stark reminder of what I’ve become.
And then, unbidden, her voice comes to me.
“Wouldn’t it be better to let go of some of it? Your anger.”
Isabella.
I close my eyes, the image of her face flashing in my mind. The softness in her eyes, the quiet strength in her voice. She doesn’t understand this world, doesn’t know what it takes to survive in it. But for some reason, her words stay with me, cutting through the reserved detachment that I’ve spent years perfecting.
For the first time in a long time, I feel a trace of doubt.
Can I end this war without becoming the monster I’ve been fighting against?
The door slams shut behind Nico and Jayden, their heavy footsteps fading into the distance as they haul Adrian out of the warehouse. The sudden silence feels oppressive, pressing against my chest. The faint buzz of the blinking fluorescent lights above is all that’s left to remind me I’m still here, still in control—at least on the surface.
I push off the table, pacing the length of the room. My shoes echo on the cracked concrete, each step a sharp reminder of the choices I’ve made to get here. Choices that have left a trail of bodies, blood, and broken lives.
And yet, it’s not the blood or the violence that weighs on me now—it’s her.
Isabella’s voice cuts through my thoughts again, uninvited but insistent. She doesn’t know what it’s like to stand where I stand, to carry the weight of an empire on your shoulders, knowing that one wrong move could shatter everything.
But still, I wonder. What if she’s right?
The thought feels like a betrayal, like I’m questioning not just my methods but my entire existence. Every decision I’ve made, every line I’ve crossed—it’s all been for a purpose. To protect what’s mine. To end the cycle of betrayal that the Delgado’s started when he took my family from me.
I stop pacing, planting my hands on the edge of the table. The cool metal bites against my palms, grounding me. My reflection stares back at me from the surface of the tarnished steel, distorted and fragmented. Fitting.
Today, I let myself remember. The night Delgado’s men came for us. The chaos. The blood. My brother’s lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. My mother’s sobs as she cradled his broken body, moments before she was taken too. The taste of helplessness so bitter it nearly choked me.
That night changed everything. It hardened me, turned me into the man I am now—a man who doesn’t back down. Because in this world, hesitation is a weakness, and weakness gets you killed.
The door creaks open, and Jayden steps back inside, his expressions veiled as always. “He’s secured,” he says. “What’s the next move, boss?”
I don’t answer right away. My mind is still tangled in thoughts of Isabella, of Adrian’s screams, of the war that seems to stretch endlessly ahead of me. But hesitation isn’t an option. Not here. Not now.
“We hit Pier 12 tomorrow,” I say finally, my voice steady, even as doubt gnaws at the edges of my resolve. “Make sure the crew is ready. I want eyes on every angle of that shipment before it even touches the dock.”
Jayden nods, his obedience automatic. “Understood.”
He turns to leave, but I stop him with a question I hadn’t planned to ask. “Do you ever think there’s another way?”
He pauses, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes narrow slightly, studying me. “Another way to what?”
“To end this.” I gesture vaguely, encompassing everything—the war, the violence, the endless cycle of retribution. “Without all the blood.”
Jayden snorts, a bitter edge to the sound. “You think the Delgado’s are going to sit down for tea and negotiate? This isn’t a game, Dom. It’s survival.”
“I know that,” I snap, more sharply than I intended. I take a breath, trying to steady myself. “But what if survival isn’t enough anymore?”
Jayden’s expression shifts, and I see a glimpse of pity in his eyes. “You’re asking the wrong guy,” he says after a moment. “But if you’re having second thoughts, you’d better figure them out quick. Samuel won’t wait for you to make up your mind.”
He leaves without another word, the door clicking shut behind him. I’m alone again, but his words linger, echoing in the emptiness of the warehouse.
Second thoughts.
It’s not about Samuel—that much I know. He’s a snake, a liar, and I’ll never stop until I see him broken and bleeding at my feet. No, the doubts aren’t about him. They’re about me. About who I’m becoming, or maybe who I’ve always been.
I sink into the chair Adrian occupied moments ago, the metal still warm from his body. My hands run over the arms, tracing the grooves and scratches in the surface. How many times have I sat across from men like him, doing whatever it took to get the answers I needed?
Too many.
Isabella wouldn’t understand. She doesn’t know this world, doesn’t grasp what it means to be responsible for so many lives. But that’s not the problem. The problem is that some part of me wants her to understand. Wants her to see the man I used to be, the man I might still be, buried under all this. I shake my head, disgusted with myself. This is weakness, plain and simple. And I can’t afford weakness. Not now. Not ever.
Tomorrow, Pier 12 will bring answers—or more questions. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Because in the end, there’s only one truth I can rely on.
Power comes with a price. And I’ll pay it, no matter what it costs me.