Chapter 7 - Blood and Brotherhood
The Taylor Street social club was supposed to be a fortress.
By 2:00 AM, the heavy iron security gates were blown off their hinges by a silent, perfectly coordinated tactical strike led by Ethan’s personal security detail. There were no alarms, no police sirens—just the cold, ruthless efficiency of a syndicate purging its own corruption.
Ethan walked through the mahogany double doors of the back parlor, his boots crunching on shattered glass.
Vincent Moretti and the three remaining council members sat around the poker table, surrounded by their guards, all of whom were now disarmed and pinned against the walls by Ethan’s men.
Moretti tried to reach for a hidden revolver beneath his vest, but Ethan raised his firearm and put a single bullet directly into the mahogany table an inch from Moretti’s fingers.
Moretti froze, gasping for air as splinters flew into his lap.
"You played your hand, Vincent," Ethan said, walking slowly toward the center of the room. His coat was damp with sleet, his eyes burning with a terrifying, absolute resolve. "You threatened a civilian. You crossed a boundary that cannot be uncrossed."
"You're destroying the family over a woman!" Moretti spat, trembling with a mix of fury and fear. "The council will never accept this! You'll be hunted down by every syndicate from here to New York!"
"Let them try," Ethan replied softly.
May you like
He raised his weapon, and in the dim, flickering light of the back room, the final remnants of the old guard realized with horrifying clarity that the empire no longer belonged to them.
By the time Ethan walked out into the freezing Chicago dawn, the council was history. The internal rot had been excised, and the waterfront belonged entirely to him.
