Chapter 7 - THE WOLF AWAKENS
The historic Palmer House Hotel was bathed in golden chandelier light.
On the eighth floor, in a private mahogany dining salon, the high council of the Chicago syndicate was assembled.
Seven men sat around an antique banquet table.
They were elderly, ruthless men who controlled unions, shipping docks, and politicians.
At the head of the table sat Arthur Sterling.
Arthur was sixty-five, with slicked-back gray hair and a bespoke Italian pinstripe suit.
His face was flushed with red wine and fury.
“Declan Hayes has overstepped his bounds!” Arthur shouted, slamming his fist onto the linen tablecloth.
Wine sloshed from crystal glasses.
“He stormed my son’s private warehouse!”
“He shot Julian in cold blood!”
“He crushed his wrist so badly the surgeons had to put four titanium pins in his bone!”
Across the table, Don Carlo Falcone cut a piece of rare steak.
Falcone was seventy, with rheumy, intelligent eyes.
“Your son kidnapped a girl, Arthur,” Falcone remarked quietly.
“A civilian secretary,” Arthur sneered.
“She’s nobody! A tool to get the Hayes logistics codes!”
“Declan Hayes violated the 1998 treaty between our families.”
“He owes us three shipping terminals on Lake Calumet as compensation.”
“And he must surrender the Jenkins woman to us tonight.”
Falcone chewed slowly.
“You put a five-million-dollar bounty on Declan’s personal assistant, Arthur.”
“Do you really think Declan Hayes is a man who negotiates under threat?”
“He’s an arrogant boy!” Arthur spat.
“He rules because his father ruled! But tonight, he answers to the council—”
BOOM.
The heavy double doors of the salon were kicked off their brass hinges.
Splintered mahogany flew across the room.
Two Sterling bodyguards standing at the threshold collapsed to the carpet with broken noses before they could draw their weapons.
Declan Hayes walked into the dining room.
He wore a tailored midnight-blue three-piece suit.
His hands were casually tucked into his trouser pockets.
Behind him, Liam and eight Hayes enforcers took positions along the walls.
Each man held an automatic shotgun leveled at the table.
The silence that followed was absolute.
The clatter of silverware stopped.
Arthur Sterling scrambled to his feet, his face turning pale.
“Declan!” Arthur stammered.
“You... you cannot enter this room unannounced!”
Declan didn't look at Arthur.
He walked calmly over to the table.
He pulled out an empty chair opposite Falcone and sat down.
He leaned back, crossing one long leg over the other.
“Don Carlo,” Declan greeted smoothly.
Falcone nodded with wary respect.
“Declan.”
Declan’s dark eyes finally shifted to Arthur Sterling.
Arthur was sweating profusely now.
The arrogance had evaporated from his posture.
“You convened a tribunal, Arthur,” Declan said.
The tone was conversational.
Pleasant, even.
Which made it infinitely more terrifying.
“You claimed I broke the treaty.”
“You did!” Arthur barked, trying to regain his footing.
“You attacked my son Julian!”
“Julian took something that belonged to Hayes Global,” Declan replied.
“A thumb drive?” Arthur laughed nervously.
“It was blank!”
“Not the drive, Arthur,” Declan murmured.
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.
The casual posture vanished.
His gaze pinned Arthur like a spear.
“Norah Jenkins.”
Arthur frowned.
“She’s an employee!”
“She is my secretary,” Declan said.
“She is under my personal protection.”
“And starting tonight, she is untouchable.”
Arthur sneered, his desperation boiling over into foolish arrogance.
“She’s the daughter of a dead port accountant!”
“Her father was a rodent, and she is a thief!”
“The bounty stands, Declan! Five million dollars! Someone will bring her head to my door by dawn!”
Declan did not raise his voice.
He simply snapped his fingers once.
Liam stepped forward and placed a black leather portfolio in front of Falcone.
Falcone opened it.
Inside were bank transfer logs, customs manifests, and encrypted communications.
“What is this?” Falcone asked.
“Proof,” Declan said.
“For the past four years, Arthur Sterling has been siphoning fifteen percent of the council’s shared port revenue into an account in Zurich.”
The other five mob bosses around the table suddenly straightened up.
Their eyes locked onto Arthur with murderous heat.
“That’s a lie!” Arthur shrieked.
“It’s verified by three independent forensic audits,” Declan said calmly.
“The same audit Thomas Jenkins was conducting before Arthur had him murdered five years ago.”
Falcone turned a cold, ancient gaze toward Arthur Sterling.
“You stole from the families, Arthur?” Falcone whispered.
“I... no! Falcone, listen to me!”
Declan stood up.
He buttoned his suit jacket.
“Arthur broke the treaty four years ago,” Declan stated to the room.
“His assets are forfeited to Hayes Global.”
“His son Julian will face federal indictment tomorrow morning for human trafficking and kidnapping.”
“And as for the five-million-dollar bounty on Norah Jenkins...”
Declan drew his pistol in one fluid, blinding motion.
BANG.
The shot shattered the wine decanter right beside Arthur’s ear.
Crystal shards rained down over Arthur’s trembling shoulders.
Arthur dropped to his knees beneath the table, whimpering like a dog.
“The bounty is canceled,” Declan said coldly.
“Anyone who even looks in Norah Jenkins’s direction will meet the same fate as the Sterling family.”
He looked around the table.
Not a single boss dared to speak.
May you like
Declan turned on his heel.
“Good evening, gentlemen.”
