Chapter 10 - The Unholy Alliance
We were in a safehouse in Queens,
a gritty apartment above a dry cleaner that no one would ever suspect belonged to a Moretti.
The walls were thin,
and the smell of chemicals was pervasive,
but it was anonymous.
I sat at a wooden table,
staring at a burner phone.
I knew what I had to do,
and I hated it.
To defeat the High Council,
I needed more than just my men.
I needed someone who hated them as much as I did,
someone with a different kind of power.
I dialed a number that hadn't been active in five years.
"Who is this?"
a gravelly voice answered.
"It's Calder Moretti,"
I said.
"I need to speak with the Dragon."
There was a long silence on the other end.
The "Dragon" was Chen,
the leader of the Triads in Chinatown.
We had been at war for decades,
skirmishing over docks and territory until a fragile truce had been established by our fathers.
"Moretti,"
Chen said,
his voice dripping with suspicion.
"Why are you calling me on a ghost line?"
"The High Council tried to kill me last night,"
I said,
getting straight to the point.
"They’re moving on all the independent families."
"They want total control, Chen."
"And I have something they’ll burn the whole city to get back."
"The ledger?"
Chen asked,
his tone shifting.
"Word travels fast in the shadows."
"I have it,"
I confirmed.
"And I’m willing to share the contents if you help me take them down."
"You’re asking for an alliance?"
"The Morettis and the Triads?"
"The streets will run red, Calder."
"The streets are already running red,"
I countered.
"If we don't stand together, they will pick us off one by one."
"They’ve already started with my estate."
"Meet me at the old tea house on Mott Street in two hours."
"Come alone,"
Chen said,
and the line went dead.
Sarah walked into the room,
holding Emma’s hand.
"You're going out again,"
she said,
it wasn't a question.
"I have to build an army, Sarah,"
I told her,
standing up and checking my sidearm.
"The Council is too big for me to fight by myself."
"Can you trust this man?"
she asked,
her eyes full of concern.
"I can trust him to want to survive,"
I replied.
"In our world, that’s better than loyalty."
I looked at Emma,
who was staring at me with those big,
innocent eyes.
She reached out and grabbed my thumb with her tiny hand.
"Don't get hurt, King,"
she whispered.
I felt a lump in my throat that I forced myself to swallow.
"I’ll be back before you know it,"
I promised.
I left the apartment,
stepping out into the cold rain of New York.
The city felt like a tinderbox,
and I was the match.
By the time this was over,
the High Council would know my name,
and they would learn to fear the man who walked into a bakery just to buy a girl a sandwich.
May you like
The war was no longer just about survival.
It was about justice,
