Chapter 9 - The Hostage
The temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees as the cartel enforcers fanned out.
The lead enforcer, a towering man with cold, dead eyes, completely ignored my presence and focused on Samuel.
"You told us you would have our money by midnight, Samuel," the enforcer rumbled, drawing a massive weapon.
Samuel’s arrogant facade crumbled instantly, his hands trembling so violently he nearly dropped his own gun.
"My wife froze the accounts, I swear it is her fault!" Samuel cried out, pathetically pointing his finger at me.
I stood my ground, leaning against the glass wall despite the shooting pain radiating from my bandaged shoulder.
"I sent your boss the ledgers an hour ago," I told the enforcer calmly.
"Samuel has been stealing from you for three years to fund his private lifestyle," I revealed, twisting the knife.
Joyce screamed in terror as two enforcers suddenly grabbed her arms and slammed her against the boardroom table.
"He is lying, he is a good boy!" Joyce sobbed, trying to defend the son who had ruined all our lives.
The lead enforcer checked his phone, reading a message from his boss that confirmed my accusations were entirely true.
"You are a dead man, Sanders," the enforcer declared, raising his weapon toward my husband's chest.
Samuel realized he was entirely out of options, out of time, and out of allies.
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In a desperate, cowardly move, Samuel lunged backward and grabbed Cynthia, pressing his gun tightly against her temple.
"Nobody moves, or the doctor gets a bullet in her brain!" Samuel shrieked, backing toward the emergency stairwell.
