Chapter 1 - The New Recruit
Derek gasped for air as my forearm pressed heavily against his collarbone.
His expensive gaming headset slipped off his head and crashed onto the hardwood floor.
"You are insane," he choked out, trying to pry my heavy arm away with his soft hands.
"Let me go or I will call the police."
I leaned in closer, letting my eyes burn a hole through his arrogant facade.
"Call them," I challenged him directly.
"But before they arrive, we will sit down and review the footage from the living room camera."
I pointed a steady finger toward the small black dome hidden on the bookshelf.
"The one I installed last Christmas when Sarah said she felt unsafe in this neighborhood."
Derek's eyes darted toward the lens, and his struggling instantly stopped.
"I saw the bruises on her arm, boy."
"If the police walk through that door, I will hand them the video of what you did to my pregnant daughter."
"You will go to a concrete cell, and I will make sure the inmates know exactly why you are there."
Derek swallowed hard, the arrogant smirk completely wiped from his sweaty face.
"What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice shaking like a leaf.
"I want you to pack a suitcase for my daughter," I instructed evenly.
"She is going to a luxury hotel downtown for the next two weeks to rest."
"While she is gone, you and I are going to have a little father-son bonding time."
I slowly released my grip, letting his feet touch the floor properly.
Derek rubbed his neck, his eyes darting toward the front door as if calculating his chances of running.
"You cannot keep me prisoner in my own house," he muttered defensively.
"I am not keeping you anywhere," I replied calmly.
"You can walk out that door right now, but if you do, the footage goes to the precinct."
Derek looked at me, a dark, resentful shadow crossing his eyes before he nodded slowly.
He turned around and walked toward the bedroom to pack Sarah's bag.
As his back was turned, I saw him slide his smartphone out of his pocket.
His thumb moved furiously across the screen, typing a frantic message.
Before I could step forward to confiscate the device, he hit send.
The screen briefly illuminated the recipient's name in bold letters before going black.
It read: Silas Thorne.
May you like
I felt a cold chill run down my spine at the sight of that terrible name.
Silas Thorne was the head of the largest illicit gambling syndicate in the city, and he was absolutely not a man who played games.
