Chapter 2 - Blood on the Floorboards
The sight of Marco standing in the doorway of this rundown Queens apartment shattered my entire reality.
My supposed best friend had a silenced pistol pointed directly at Elena's chest.
He smiled, a cold and calculated expression that completely erased ten years of our brotherhood in the syndicate.
I realized instantly that my heart attack three days ago had not been a random medical emergency.
Marco had poisoned my lunch, and when I miraculously survived, he had tracked my movements to finish the job here.
He ordered his men to spread out, effectively trapping us in the tiny living room.
The little girl whimpered, burying her face into her mother's trembling legs as the thugs advanced.
I stepped in front of them, raising my weapon and aiming it squarely between Marco's eyes.
I asked him why he was doing this after everything I had given him over the years.
Marco sneered, stepping carefully over the splintered remains of the front door.
He said he was tired of watching me run a billion-dollar empire with a soft, sentimental heart.
He wanted the New York territory entirely for himself, and eliminating my secret family was the final step to secure the throne.
One of the cartel thugs lunged at me with a heavy steel crowbar, aiming directly for my kneecaps.
I didn't hesitate for a single second.
I fired twice, dropping the thug to the floor before he could even swing his weapon.
The sound of the gunshots was absolutely deafening in the small, enclosed space of the apartment.
Marco fired back immediately, the bullet grazing my shoulder and tearing through my expensive suit jacket.
I tackled him backward into the hallway, sending us both crashing violently into the opposite wall.
We wrestled desperately for control of his weapon, our hands slipping on the fresh blood soaking into my shirt.
Elena grabbed a heavy ceramic lamp from her side table and smashed it directly over the second thug's head, knocking him unconscious.
I finally managed to disarm Marco, pressing the hot barrel of my gun against his throat.
I told him to call his men off permanently, or he would die right on this filthy hallway floor.
Marco just laughed, spitting blood onto the crisp collar of my shirt.
"You cannot kill me, Vincent," Marco whispered, his eyes gleaming with malicious triumph.
May you like
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, remote detonator with a blinking red light.
"Because if my heart stops beating, the explosive under your daughter's bed goes off."
