Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

K A G E
W
hen the text comes through, I’m standing in the
middle of a frigid warehouse in the Lower East
Side, surrounded by nineteen armed and
dangerous Russians.
I hope it’s my girl. I need something good tonight.
Ignoring the chiming from the inside pocket of my
overcoat, I continue.
“Shut down everything immediately. Nothing gets through
unless it’s ours. The ports, the borders, incoming flights and
scheduled shipments from everywhere to everywhere. I want
them to feel the pressure. Make it impossible for them to do
business. When the money dries up, they’ll be more amenable
to another meeting. Then we’ll let the hammer drop. Get the
word out to all your captains and soldiers that we’re at war.
Peacetime rules are suspended.”
I look at each man in the circle in turn. All of them lethal.
All of them loyal. Every one of them ready to kill or die,
depending on the word from me.
Though the orders are issued from Max, I’m the one who
dispenses them. The king’s hands and mouth, I rule in his
absence.
And I rule with an iron fist.
“What happened on Christmas Eve is a wake-up call. Our
partnerships with the other families have been going too
smoothly. It’s made them bold. It’s time to remind them who
we are, and why we’re in charge.”