“You wanted Roman, Declan, and Victor to tear each other apart.”

“Once they started a three-way war over the missing money and weapons, you were going to sweep in and take Calder City.”

Roman spoke, his voice low and dangerous.

“Is this true, Callahan?”

Richard took a step backward, closer to the open door of his van.

“They are dinosaurs, Roman,” my father spat.

“The three families have been bleeding this city dry for forty years.”

“It’s time for new blood.”

“Shoot them,” my father ordered, pointing a finger at us.

The men in tactical gear raised their rifles.

Before they could pull their triggers, the squeal of tires echoed from the street behind the warehouse.

A low, dark sedan tore around the corner, followed by a heavy transport truck.

The truck crashed through the chain-link fence at the entrance of the pier.

Declan Rourke leaned out of the passenger window of the sedan, a submachine gun in his scarred hands.

He opened fire, the deafening cracks echoing off the metal walls of the warehouse.

The militia men scattered, diving for cover behind their SUVs.