Chapter 12 - Sins of the Father
The neon lights of the Las Vegas strip blurred into streaks of color as their armored sedan sped down the avenue.
Victor had used every connection in his underground network to track down Marcus, Harper's father.
He was holed up in a seedy, off-strip motel that reeked of stale smoke and despair.
Harper walked closely behind Victor as they approached room 214, her heart pounding against her ribs.
Victor kicked the flimsy wooden door open without knocking.
Marcus jumped back from a cluttered table, sending a stack of poker chips and empty liquor bottles crashing to the floor.
He was a hollow shell of the man Harper remembered, with sunken eyes and trembling hands.
"Harper?" he gasped, his eyes darting frantically toward the open doorway.
"What have you done, Dad?" she asked, her voice breaking with a decade of resentment.
Before Marcus could formulate a pathetic excuse, a red laser dot appeared on the center of his chest.
"Get down!" Victor roared, tackling Marcus to the dirty carpet just as a high-caliber bullet ripped through the motel window.
Arthur laid down cover fire with a suppressed submachine gun, shattering the remaining glass.
"They found us fast, too fast," Arthur shouted over the deafening noise.
"The Cartel doesn't play by city rules," Victor replied, pulling a flashbang from his tactical vest.
He pulled the pin and hurled it through the broken window.
A blinding white light erupted in the parking lot, followed by a concussive boom.
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Victor grabbed Marcus by the collar, hauling him to his feet.
"Move now, unless you want your daughter to pay for your sins," Victor commanded.
