Chapter 2 - The Meatpacking Facility
The Pier 4 meatpacking facility smelled of salt, frost, and decaying copper. Julian Vargas stepped out of his armored sedan, the freezing Boston wind pulling at his heavy overcoat. Silvio and Dante flanked him, their expressions carved from stone. Inside the warehouse, the temperature plummeted. Carcasses of beef hung from steel hooks, casting long, grotesque shadows under the flickering fluorescent lights.
At the center of the room, kneeling on the icy concrete, were Hector and Diego. They had been stripped of their weapons and their bravado. Two of Julian’s enforcers stood behind them, firearms drawn. When Hector saw Julian emerge from the shadows, the color completely drained from his face. The burn mark on his jaw twitched.
"Mr. Vargas," Hector stammered, his breath puffing in white clouds. "There’s been a misunderstanding. We didn’t know the bakery was under your protection."
Julian did not speak immediately. He walked slowly around the kneeling men, the sharp click of his leather shoes echoing off the frozen walls. "She wasn't," Julian said softly. "But her daughter walked into my lounge wearing her mother's blood. That made it my business."
Diego looked up, desperation in his eyes. "We were just collecting taxes for the Iron Skulls! Ramon told us to push the East End. We didn't mean to hurt her that bad. She fought back!"
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"A baker," Julian murmured, stopping in front of them. "A widow with a child. She fought back, and your response was to beat her to the edge of death." He looked at Silvio and nodded.
Silvio handed Julian a heavy, iron crowbar. Julian stepped forward. He didn't yell. He didn't monologue. He simply exacted the toll required for making a little girl cry in his city. When he walked out of the facility ten minutes later, the Iron Skulls were short two enforcers, and the Boston underworld had a new, terrifying message: Clara Hayes belonged to Julian Vargas.
