Chapter 8 - Blood and Loyalty
The air in the study turned ice-cold. Viktor’s gun was locked directly on Massimo’s heart, the betrayal finally laid bare in the open light.
“You,” Massimo said, his voice dropping into a register of quiet, terrifying venom. “Ten years, Viktor. I pulled you out of the gutter in Southie. I gave you an empire.”
“Empires crumble, Massimo,” Viktor sneered, his finger tightening on the trigger. “You got soft. You wanted out of the blood game, and the syndicate didn't want a liability sitting at the head of the table. Me and Camila, we’re taking the Boston territory. And you... you’re going down as a tragic medical accident.”
Viktor started to squeeze the trigger.
I didn’t think. I threw myself sideways, tackling the heavy rolling medical cart directly into Viktor’s shins. The metal frame slammed into his knees with a sickening crunch, throwing his aim off by a fraction of a second.
Bang!
The bullet shattered the overhead chandelier, showering glass across the room.
Viktor roared in pain and rage, backhanding me with the butt of his pistol. The blow caught me across the temple, sending me crashing hard into the floor. Pain exploded behind my eyes, and the room began to spin into a sickening blur of dark shadows and flashing lights.
Through a haze of dizziness, I watched the ultimate clash unfold.
Massimo, despite his unstable legs and the agony tearing through his spine, used his momentum to swing one heavy crutch like a baseball bat, catching Viktor squarely across the jaw. The massive guard staggered back, spitting blood. But Viktor lunged forward again, tackling Massimo around the waist.
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Both men went crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs, metal crutches, and desperate, lethal violence.
I tried to push myself up, my hands slipping in a pool of blood—mine or someone else’s, I couldn't tell. My vision faded at the edges as the sound of sirens began wailing in the distance, screaming up the long driveway toward the Pascale gates.
