Chapter 6 - The Devil's Bargain
Donovan was trapped, but his mind raced like a cornered rat's. He grabbed the cheap motel pen and began writing on the provided notepad. But he wasn't writing a confession.
He heard the crunch of heavy tires on the gravel outside. Volkov’s men had arrived for the extraction.
"They're here, Elias," Donovan sneered, dropping the pen. "You’re tough, but you’re not taking down four armed cartel hitmen."
Elias glanced at the window, unfazed. "We'll see."
The motel window shattered. Automatic gunfire tore through the cheap drywall. Donovan hit the floor, covering his head as plaster rained down. Elias didn't dive for cover; he kicked the wooden chair toward the door, raised his pistol, and fired three precise shots through the splintered wood.
A heavy thud echoed from the hallway. Someone groaned.
Suddenly, the shooting stopped. The door swung open, and Viktor Volkov himself walked in, wearing a pristine white suit, flanked by two surviving guards.
Donovan scrambled to his feet, crawling toward the Russian. "Viktor! Thank god. That's him! Kill him!"
Volkov looked down at Donovan with absolute disgust. He then looked at Elias and gave a slight, respectful nod.
"Elias," Volkov said. "It is good to see you again."
May you like
Donovan’s brain short-circuited. "What? You... you know him?"
Elias lowered his gun. "Who do you think protected me in that Panamanian prison, Donny? Who do you think bankrolled my return to Florida? Viktor and I have been business partners for five years. And we both know you don't have ten million in crypto. You're completely broke."
