Chapter 10 - Screams in the Meatpacking District
We didn't call the New York Police Department.
We called the United States Department of Justice’s Special Corruption Task
Force.
At 0600 hours, three federal cutters surrounded the Viper in the gray light of
dawn.
Special agents stormed the decks, taking custody of Julian Vance, his surviving
mercenaries, and forty terabytes of encrypted ledgers that reached into the
highest offices of Albany and Washington.
Dominic Salvatore stood on the stern of the yacht, his hands in his pockets,
watching them drag Julian away in chains.
A senior federal prosecutor walked over to Dominic.
He looked at Dominic’s bloody shirt, then at the massive stack of signed
evidence files in my arms.
“This cleans up twenty years of blood on the waterfront, Salvatore,” the
prosecutor said quietly.
“It also implicates half your former associates.”
“They were Julian’s associates,” Dominic corrected him smoothly.
“The Salvatore empire is transitioning completely to green infrastructure and
legitimate commercial logistics.”
“Effective this morning.”
The prosecutor looked at me.
“And who are you, young lady?”
“Elena Valli,” I answered clearly.
“Chief Compliance Officer of Salvatore Enterprises.”
The prosecutor blinked, shook his head with a faint smile, and walked away.
The sun broke through the heavy rain clouds over the Atlantic, painting the
water in brilliant streaks of gold and rose.
Dominic turned to me.
The exhaustion of the past thirty-six hours showed in the tight lines around his
eyes.
But the darkness that had haunted him since Table Four was gone.
“Compliance officer?” Dominic asked, the corner of his mouth curving upward.
“Someone has to keep your books clean, Dominic,” I replied, looking out over the
open sea.
“You’re terrible at spotting embezzlement.”
Dominic laughed.
A real, deep laugh that made him look ten years younger.
He stepped closer to me.
He didn't touch me, but the warmth of his presence was overwhelming against the
cold morning wind.
“Your father would be extraordinarily proud of you, Elena.”
A lump formed in my throat, but I didn't cry.
For the first time in ten years, the heavy, suffocating stone on my chest had
rolled away.
“What happens to Isabella?” I asked quietly.
“Her ship docked in Valparaíso two hours ago,” Dominic said.
“She’s working in a fish cannery under an assumed name with zero dollars to her
name.”
“She’ll survive. But she’ll never step foot in this hemisphere again.”
Dominic reached out his hand toward me.
This time, I didn't pull away.
I placed my hand in his.
His fingers closed gently around mine, warm, strong, and unyielding.
“What about you, Elena?” Dominic asked softly.
“Your revenge is finished. Julian Vance will die in a supermax cell.”
“What do you want now?”
I looked down at our joined hands, then up into his dark, steady eyes.
“I spent ten years running from ghosts, Dominic.”
“I think I’d like to build something real.”
Dominic smiled, pulling me gently against his side as the cutter turned back
May you like
toward the Manhattan skyline rising in the distance.
“Then let’s build it together.”
