Chapter 17 - The Shadow Broker
By midnight, Elena and Mateo were safely transported to Alexander’s high-security compound in Upstate New York.
With the family protected, the battlefield shifted entirely to Pier 14.
We gathered inside a dimly lit maritime storage shed overlooking the choppy, dark waters of the East River.
Marcus had tied the captured attacker to a steel support pillar.
The man spat blood onto the concrete floor, his grin defiant despite his bruised jaw.
"You're too late, Sterling," the man sneered, coughing through broken ribs.
"Dominic already cleared the shipping containers through customs."
"He has the manifest that lists the original offshore beneficiaries."
"Tomorrow morning, he leaks it to the federal prosecutor, and your whole empire gets seized under RICO statutes."
Alexander walked up to the man, his face an emotionless mask of cold calculation.
"Who cleared the customs stamp?" Alexander asked quietly.
"Find out yourself," the operative spat back.
I stepped forward, stepping directly into the pool of light hanging from the rusted rafter.
I recognized the tattoo on the man’s wrist—a faded anchor with three stars, the mark of the old Astoria union dockworkers.
"You used to work for my father at the dry docks," I said, looking down at him.
The man blinked, his sneer faltering as he studied my face in the stark light.
"Sophia Valenzuela...?" he muttered, a flicker of shame flashing across his weathered features.
"Miguel took a bullet for your brother during the eighty-nine strike," I said, my voice cutting through him like an icy draft.
"And here you are, selling his daughter and grandson to the man who locked Miguel in the furnace."
The man dropped his head, unable to bear the weight of my accusation.
"Dominic threatened my kids, Sophia," he whispered, his voice cracking with genuine remorse.
"He told me he’d drown them in the bay if I didn't bypass the inspection on Container 408."
Alexander looked at Marcus, then turned back to the broken dockworker.
"What's inside Container 408?" Alexander demanded.
The worker looked up, his eyes hollow with dread.
"It's not just financial files, Alexander," he confessed.
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"It’s Julian Sterling’s original emergency vault."
"And Dominic brought twenty mercenaries to load it onto a cargo freighter bound for international waters tonight."
