Chapter 6 - The Poisoned Treaty
Midnight inside the estate's subterranean security bunker was cold and quiet, save for the low hum of thirty high-definition monitors displaying real-time camera feeds from every corner of the property.
Sadie sat alone at the primary workstation, her eyes scanning lines of glowing blue code. Her fingers flew across the mechanical keyboard, executing the deep-level system search Victor had requested.
On the center screen, time-stamped footage from Gate 3 began to render.
The video showed a heavy black transport truck stopping at the security barrier at 2:14 AM on Tuesday night. The guard in the booth didn't ask for shipping manifests, nor did he perform the mandatory physical inspection. Instead, he simply tapped his screen, raised the barrier, and let the vehicle pass into the private docks.
Sadie zoomed in on the guard’s face inside the booth.
Her breath hitched.
It wasn't a low-level hire or an outside contractor. It was Frank Russo—Victor’s second-in-command for port operations, a man who had stood at Victor’s side for over twelve years.
Sadie’s heart slammed against her ribs. Frank Russo was like family to Victor. He attended family dinners, managed the inner syndicate accounts, and held full access to every safe house in the state. If Frank was aiding Dominic Valenti in smuggling unregistered cargo, it meant the Valenti family was preparing to bypass Victor entirely—or worse, eliminate him.
Sadie rapidly inserted the encrypted flash drive, transferring the raw video files and system access logs. The progress bar hit 99%.
Suddenly, the heavy steel door behind her clicked open.
Sadie whipped her head around, pulling her hand away from the drive.
Frank Russo stood in the doorway. He was a broad, silver-haired man in his fifties, wearing a dark leather trench coat. He held a half-eaten sandwich in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, but his sharp, dark eyes immediately locked onto the blinking red transfer light on Sadie’s workstation.
“Working late, Sadie?” Frank asked, his tone deceptively friendly as he stepped into the cold room, letting the steel door click shut behind him.
Sadie quickly closed the main video playback window, leaving only the standard nightly security log on her main screen. She forced a smooth, professional smile onto her face.
“Just finishing up the monthly access reports for Marco, Mr. Russo,” she said smoothly, keeping her hand resting casually near her lap where her private alarm button was mounted under the desk. “Gate 2 had a sensor glitch earlier, so I had to manually clear the logs.”
Frank set his coffee cup down on the edge of her desk. He leaned over her shoulder, his eyes scanning the lines of text on her screen. The heavy scent of cheap cologne and tobacco washed over her.
“Is that so?” Frank murmured, his voice dropping into a colder, lower register. “Funny thing about sensor glitches... they usually leave digital footprints. What kind of footprints are you looking at, kid?”
Sadie felt a bead of cold sweat form at the nape of her neck, but she didn't flinch. She had learned from the best; she looked Frank straight in his eyes without a single flicker of fear.
“I’m looking at whatever Marco tells me to look at, Frank,” she replied calmly. “And right now, I’m done for the night.”
Frank watched her for three agonizing seconds. Slowly, a broad, unsettling smile spread across his face, though his eyes remained completely dead.
“You’re a loyal girl, Sadie,” Frank said, tapping his thick fingers against her desk. “Victor saved your little brother, so you think he’s a god. But let me give you a piece of advice... gods die just like the rest of us when the storm hits.”
He turned on his heel and walked toward the steel door, stopping right before he pulled it open.
“Tell Victor I’ll be at the dock house at sunrise to review the shipping manifests with him,” Frank added chillingly. “Just him and me. Like old times.”
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The heavy door slammed shut behind him.
Sadie didn't hesitate for a single second. She snatched the encrypted drive from the terminal, grabbed her radio, and ran out of the bunker toward Victor’s quarters as fast as her legs could carry her.
