Chapter 8 - The Final Reckoning
The rain poured heavily over the industrial district of Queens, drumming against the rusted corrugated metal roof of the abandoned warehouse.
Inside, Marcus Drake—a broad-shouldered man with coarse tattoos covering his neck and arms—was furiously packing stacks of cash into a duffel bag under the dim light of a hanging bulb.
"Stupid bitch," Drake muttered to himself, zipping the bag shut. "Should've dragged her back months ago. She owes me..."
"She doesn't owe you anything," a dark voice echoed from the shadows of the warehouse entrance.
Drake whipped around, reaching for a revolver tucked into his waistband, but a sudden flash of silver cut through the dim light.
I stepped out of the darkness, striking Drake across the face with the heavy steel grip of my gun.
CRACK!
Drake dropped to the concrete floor, groaning, blood pouring from his shattered nose. He scrambled backward, staring up at me in terror as my soldiers stepped out of the gloom, locking down every exit.
"Who the hell are you?" Drake gasped, spitting blood onto the floor.
"I am Lorenzo Rossi," I said calmly, stepping onto his outstretched hand, crushing his fingers beneath my boot until he screamed. "And the woman you pushed down a staircase... is under my protection."
Drake's eyes widened in sheer panic as he recognized my name. "Wait! Please! I didn't know! Mateo paid me to keep tabs on her! I didn't want to hurt her baby—it was an accident!"
"An accident?" I repeated softly, my voice dropping into a register colder than arctic ice. "You stole a baby's life. You tormented a woman who had done nothing to you."
"I can give you Mateo's other files!" Drake begged, sobbing on the floor. "Just let me leave! I'll vanish! You'll never see me again!"
"You're right," I said, raising my gun. "I won't."
I didn't pulled the trigger myself. I looked at Marco.
"Put him in a container," I commanded coldly. "Ship him to our facility in South America. Let him spend the rest of his natural life working in the mines, thinking about the life he stole."
"No! Please! Shoot me! Just shoot me!" Drake screamed as two heavy-set guards dragged him away, his cries echoing uselessly into the rainy night.
I stood in the silent warehouse, wiping a drop of rain off my sleeve.
The men who killed Sophia were dead. The man who tried to poison my son was buried. The monster who tormented Hunter was erased from existence.
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For the first time in years, the debt of blood was fully settled.
I turned and walked back out into the rain, heading home to the only two people who mattered in this world.
