Chapter 9 - The Final Gambit
Silas pushed Leo behind him, stepping forward, his hands empty but his stance lethal. Chloe raised her shotgun, her jaw set. They were hopelessly outgunned.
"It's over, Silas," Maroni sneered, walking forward slowly. "You killed my top lieutenant. You embarrassed me. I'm going to kill your cousin, I'm going to kill your brother in front of you, and then I'm going to take my ledger back."
"The ledger isn't here," Leo’s voice rang out, clear and piercing.
He stepped out from behind Silas, ignoring his brother’s desperate hiss to stay back. Leo walked right up to the line of armed men, his posture radiating absolute authority.
"What did you say, boy?" Maroni narrowed his eyes.
"I said the ledger isn't here," Leo repeated coldly. He pulled a burner phone from his pocket and held it up. "An hour ago, I uploaded a fully encrypted digital copy of your ledger to a dead-man’s switch server. The decryption key is set to auto-send to the New York Times, the FBI Director, and every cartel boss south of the border you’ve been skimming from."
Maroni laughed, though it sounded slightly strained. "You're bluffing. You're a college kid."
Leo didn't smile. He pressed a button on the phone. "Check your pocket, Don Maroni."
Maroni frowned. His personal cell phone buzzed. He pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was a single PDF file—page 42 of the ledger, detailing a massive hit Maroni had ordered on a rival family.
Maroni’s face went chalk white.
"If any of us die tonight, the switch triggers," Leo said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly calm. "Your empire burns by breakfast. You will spend the rest of your short life looking over your shoulder for cartel assassins, or rotting in a federal supermax. Your choice."
The warehouse was dead silent. Even Silas stared at Leo in utter shock. The boy he had protected had just checkmated the most dangerous man in the city without firing a single bullet.
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Maroni gripped his cane, his knuckles turning white. He looked at the heavily armed men around him, then back at the fragile boy who held the fate of his empire in his trembling hand.
"What are your terms?" Maroni spat, the words tasting like ash.
