The storm had cleared, but the night air along the waterfront was bitterly cold. Alessandro, Nico, and two trusted men crouched behind a stack of shipping containers, watching the docks. The moon cast silver light over crates marked with fake company logos—an arms shipment The Consortium had smuggled in.
Nico checked his watch. "Our window's closing. If they move that shipment inland, we'll never see it again."
Alessandro's eyes swept the shadows. He could feel the weight of the moment, the risk. But letting The Consortium arm their soldiers would be the first nail in the city's coffin.
"No mistakes," he said. "We take them fast and quiet."
A black van rolled up near the crates. Men in dark clothes emerged—some loading boxes, others keeping watch. Alessandro recognized one of them instantly: Yuri Volkov, a former Marcone enforcer now working for The Consortium.
Yuri barked orders in Russian, unaware of the eyes watching him