Chapter 15 - A Lesson in History
Victor’s enforcers immediately dropped their hands toward their jackets, lunging for concealed iron. They didn't even make it past the first button.
From the shadows behind me, Marcus stepped through the curtain alongside three silent men wearing slate-grey trench coats, their weapons drawn and leveled with surgical precision. At the same time, the club's main doors slammed shut from the outside, sealed by automated magnetic locks controlled from an off-site terminal.
"You're... you're Daniel Walker," Victor stammered, standing up so fast his chair overturned onto the Persian rug. "You're just a retired merchant. You're nobody."
I walked slowly toward the center of the table, my footsteps echoing like gunshots against the marble floor.
"Nineteen years ago, I walked away from this life because I wanted my daughter to grow up in a world where men like you didn't exist," I said, my voice carrying an unnatural, ice-cold clarity that stripped the oxygen from the room. "I buried the money, the connections, and the violence. I even let people forget my name."
I stopped two feet from Victor, looking down at him with eyes that had seen empires rise and fall before he ever learned how to hold a gun.
"But you made one fundamental mistake, Victor."
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"What... what mistake?" Victor whispered, his bravado entirely evaporated.
"You thought because I put down the sword, I forgot how to use it."
