Chapter 7 - The Hostage
The driver of the armored truck was a towering brute with a Volkov family crest stitched onto his jacket.
He smiled sadistically and held his thumb over the red button of the detonator.
If he pressed it, the entire mansion would collapse and bury us alive.
I pressed the barrel of my gun against Arthur’s temple.
“Tell your dog to back down, Arthur,” I commanded coldly.
Arthur coughed up blood and laughed, completely unfazed by the threat of death.
He told me the Volkovs didn't care about his life anymore.
They only wanted the territory, and Arthur was just a convenient pawn to get inside my gates.
Clara realized her father had been played by the Russians the entire time.
“You sacrificed your honor for nothing,” Clara told her father, disgust lacing her words.
The giant Russian brute raised the detonator higher, preparing to press the button.
Suddenly, a sleek black sports car crashed through the garage doors at a hundred miles an hour.
The car slammed directly into the brute, pinning him against the armored truck and crushing the detonator.
The driver’s side door opened, and Marcus stumbled out, clutching his bleeding shoulder.
My treacherous underboss had just saved our lives.
“The Volkovs betrayed me too,” Marcus wheezed, spitting blood onto the concrete.
He told us he rigged the Russian transport vehicles outside with C4 explosives to create a distraction.
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He tossed me the keys to the sports car, telling me it was the only way out of the city.
Before I could thank him, Arthur pulled a hidden knife from his boot and drove it straight into Clara’s side.
