Chapter 17 - The Bloodline
My father coughed violently and pushed himself up onto his knees.
He looked absolutely pathetic, completely stripped of his arrogant power and vast criminal empire.
He wiped a thick stream of dark blood from his mouth and looked up at me.
Even in total defeat, his eyes still held that same sickening, manipulative gleam I remembered from my childhood.
He smiled weakly, raising his hands in a gesture of fake surrender.
He told me he was incredibly impressed by my brutal efficiency.
He claimed that everything he had ever done, all the pain and suffering, was solely to make me strong enough to survive this world.
I kept my pistol aimed precisely at the absolute center of his chest.
I told him he was nothing but a greedy, soulless coward who abandoned his family for money.
My father slowly stood up, relying heavily on the metal guardrail to keep his balance in the howling wind.
He reached slowly into the inside pocket of his expensive trench coat.
I warned him aggressively that if he pulled a weapon, I would kill him instantly.
He chuckled darkly and pulled out a small, metallic detonator switch with a bright red button.
My blood turned to absolute ice.
He revealed that the entire oil rig was completely wired with tons of highly volatile C4 explosives.
If I shot him, his thumb would release the dead-man's switch, and the entire platform would vaporize instantly.
He confidently told me that we were both going to walk away from this rig alive, or we were all going to die together.
He demanded that I order my men to stand down and call a new extraction chopper for him.
I stared at the small metal detonator in his hand.
I knew he was absolutely arrogant enough to blow the rig, but he was also entirely too selfish to want to die.
I slowly lowered my pistol, pretending to completely accept his lethal terms.
My father smiled triumphantly, believing he had outsmarted me one final time.
He took a confident step forward, completely lowering his guard.
I did not hesitate for a single microsecond.
I violently lunged forward, grabbing his wrist with my left hand and snapping it backward with bone-crushing force.
He screamed in blinding agony as the detonator slipped completely out of his grasp.
I caught the small metal device in mid-air before it could hit the deck and release the trigger switch.
I held the button firmly pressed down with my thumb.
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I pressed the hot barrel of my pistol directly under his chin.
I coldly told him that the twisted game was permanently over.
