Chapter 4 - The Blood DebtMarcus Vance was dragged down to the basement sub-level, leaving a dark trail of blood across the pristine white marble of the penthouse. Dominic poured two glasses of neat bourbon, sliding one across the desk toward me. My knuckles were slightly red from the impact, but my breathing was steady.
"You move with the speed of a professional striker," Dominic said, leaning against the edge of the desk. "And you think like an apex predator. Tell me, Avery, did your father teach you how to fight like that before he stole from me?"
"My father taught me how to balance a ledger," I replied, taking a small sip of the burning liquor. "I taught myself how to survive in Cicero when men like you decided my family was collateral damage."
Dominic’s expression darkened, the playful amusement vanishing from his eyes. "Your father didn't just steal money, Avery. He left a trail of bodies. When he betrayed the syndicate, three loyal capos were ambushed by federal agents who knew exact GPS coordinates. He wasn't just an accountant. He was an FBI informant working deep undercover."
The glass slipped from my fingers, shattering against the floor. The bourbon pooled like dark blood around my heels.
"You're lying," I whispered, the words catching in my throat.
"I don't lie," Dominic said coldly, pulling an old, yellowed file from his drawer and throwing it onto the desk. Inside were photographs of my father shaking hands with a federal handler, alongside bank receipts totaling three million dollars deposited into a secret account bearing Thomas Carter's signature. "He traded my men's lives for cash. And when the syndicate found out, he faked his industrial accident to escape execution, leaving you and your sick mother to clean up his mess."
My mind spun. Everything I believed about my father—the gentle, overworked man who read me bedtime stories and promised we would move to a house with a green lawn—was a manufactured lie. He hadn't been crushed by a forklift; he had gone into hiding, leaving us behind to face the wolves.
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"Where is he?" I asked, my voice trembling with a fury so hot it felt cold.
Dominic leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear. "That's why I brought you into my inner circle, Avery. Because according to our latest intelligence, your dear, departed father isn't dead at all. He’s living under an alias in Zurich, Switzerland, sitting on the remaining fifty million dollars. And tonight, you and I are flying out to get it back."
