Chapter 5: The Rat in the Shadows

Three nights later, the neon sign of Hayes Prime Cuts was switched off, but the interior was bathed in the harsh, sterile glow of the fluorescent overhead lights.

Riley was in the back room, her thick, muscular arms hauling a hundred-pound side of beef onto the steel hooks. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her breathing heavy and rhythmic. She enjoyed the physical strain. It silenced the anxiety creeping into her mind.

She had made calls. She had spoken to old, weathered men who remembered her father with a mixture of reverence and terror. And she had found the answer Dominic Castelli was looking for.

Suddenly, the heavy front door of the shop rattled violently.

Someone was trying to force the lock.

Riley wiped her hands on her stained apron, her instincts flaring. She quietly unhooked a heavy, forged-steel meat cleaver from the magnetic strip on the wall. She reached over and killed the overhead lights, plunging the shop into shadows.

CRACK.

The lock shattered. The front door kicked open, and two figures spilled into the shop, silhouetted by the streetlights filtering through the front windows.

“I’m telling you, she’s in here. I saw the lights,” a gruff voice hissed.

Riley recognized the voice instantly. It was Paulie. The hulking enforcer with the broken nose who had accompanied Dominic days earlier. But Paulie wasn’t here with Dominic. He was here with a tall, wiry man clutching a silenced submachine gun.

“Just burn the place down, Paulie,” the wiry man growled with a thick Irish accent. “Declan wants the butcher gone. She’s been asking too many questions about our operations. We can’t let her report back to Castelli.”

Riley’s blood ran entirely cold.

The mole wasn’t some distant cousin or low-level soldier. It was Paulie. Dominic’s own bodyguard was working directly for the Irish syndicate.

“I want to put a bullet in this fat cow myself,” Paulie sneered, pulling his heavy pistol and clicking off the safety. “She humiliated me in front of the boss.”

They advanced into the shop, their boots stepping quietly onto the sawdust. Riley didn’t hide. Hiding was for prey. She used her deep knowledge of the shop’s layout, moving silently through the pitch-black prep area. She positioned herself behind the massive display counter, her breathing completely controlled, her massive frame perfectly still.

As Paulie stepped past the display case, passing within inches of her hiding spot, Riley gripped the cleaver tight, her muscles coiling.

“Check the freezer,” Paulie whispered, turning his head—

“You should have checked your blind spot,” Riley growled from the darkness.

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