~NICO~
The shipment was late.
That alone was enough to sour my mood.
Late meant sloppy. Sloppy meant weak links. Weak links meant blood eventually, one way or another. Adriano stood to my right, his phone still in his hand from the call that confirmed what I already knew.
“Dock four didn’t clear, boss,” he said. “Customs delay.”
I exhaled through my nose. “That’s not a delay. That’s interference.”
Enzo leaned against the table, arms crossed. “Or someone sold us out.”
I didn’t answer. I was already thinking the same thing.
The man kneeling on the floor had stopped begging ten minutes ago. Sweat slid down his temple, mixing with the blood from his split lip.
This was not street meth, or cut trash. This was a Vescari high-grade crystal. The kind politicians’ sons and bored billionair
