Chapter 7 - THE GROOM’S FINAL BETRAYALJavier was still huddled on the floor near the shattered coffee table, nursing his broken jaw, whimpering like a beaten dog.
I walked over, grabbed him by the hair, and jerked his head upward so he was forced to look me in the eye.
“Javier,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Do you know what the worst part of your little scheme was?”
“Please… please, Alex…” he sobbed, snot and blood mixing on his upper lip.
“It wasn't the greed,” I continued, ignoring his pleas. “People are greedy every day. It wasn't even the cowardice. Cowards are common.” I leaned in closer, my eyes locking onto his terrified pupils. “It was the fact that Sofia actually loved you. She defended you to me when I told her your family was social-climbing trash. She believed in your wedding vows.”
Javier swallowed hard, his eyes darting toward his mother for help, but Carmen was still staring blankly at the television screen, completely catatonic.
“And how did you repay her?” I asked, my voice rising slightly, vibrating with restrained fury. “By locking her in a room with seven hyenas and standing outside the door like a pimp guarding his merchandise, making sure her face wasn’t bruised too badly for the wedding photos.”
I released his hair, letting his head drop back against the floor with a dull thud.
“Marcus,” I called out.
“Boss?”
“Pack them up. All seven of them.”
“Where are we taking them?”
“Not to a police station,” I said, pulling on my leather gloves. “The police are far too gentle. Take them to the old shipping yard by the East River. Specifically, Warehouse 9.”
Marcus grinned—a feral, shark-like expression. “The dry dock?”
“The dry dock,” I confirmed. “Let them spend the next forty-eight hours contemplating the true cost of real estate in this city.”
As my enforcers moved in, hoisting Carmen, Javier, and the six weeping socialites to their feet like sacks of garbage, Carmen suddenly found her voice one last time. She thrashed against Marcus’s grip, screaming with the desperate fury of a cornered beast.
“You think you’ve won, Alexander Brooks?!” she shrieked as they dragged her toward the door. “The underworld will tear you apart! You can’t control everything! Someone will put a bullet in your head before the week is out!”
May you like
I didn’t even bother to look back as they hauled her out of the suite.
“Tell her,” I muttered to Marcus as he passed me, “that if anyone in this city wants to put a bullet in my head, they’ll have to get past the thousands of people whose lives I own.”
