The first ripple came from South Channel: a bar fight that escalated into a riot when rumors spread that the liquor shipments had been intercepted. Then, in Old Market, vendors found their supply trucks delayed, routes blocked by “unmarked inspections” from men no one recognized. By morning, two of the smaller gangs were already at each other’s throats over stolen cargo that hadn’t even arrived yet.
Eastgate was addicted to its own bloodstream of goods—fuel, booze, medicine, steel. Choke it even a little, and the whole body convulsed.
Capol’s crew split up to track the spread. Vince walked the southern blocks, eyes sharp under the brim of his cap, noting every unusual checkpoint, every face he didn’t recognize. Jerry stalked the bars and pool halls, pulling rumors from drunks and hustler
