Chapter 6 - The Confession in the DarkThe basement holding cells beneath the Cross Estate were carved out of solid bedrock, relics of the prohibition era when Boston’s underworld operated with absolute impunity. There were no windows, no clocks, and no mercy.
Griffin sat huddled in the corner of cell four, shivering in his ruined designer suit, his face bruised from the rough handling by the enforcers. Across the concrete corridor, Paige was pacing back and forth like a trapped animal, clutching her arms against the damp chill.
The heavy steel door at the end of the hall creaked open. Heavy, measured footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Ezra stepped into the light of a single swinging overhead bulb. He wasn't wearing his coat. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the lean, hardened muscle of a man who had fought his way to the top of the underworld before he was twenty-five.
"Griffin. Paige," Ezra greeted, his voice echoing off the damp stone walls.
Griffin scrambled to his feet, pressing himself against the iron bars. "Ezra! Please! Listen to me! It was Victor's idea! He manipulated us! He said you were weak, that the syndicate was going to collapse!"
Paige rushed to her cell door as well, clutching the bars with manic desperation. "Ezra, darling, please! We’re family! I helped take care of Rosie! Remember? For Nadia's sake—"
"Don't you dare say her name," Ezra interrupted, his voice cutting through the air like a razor blade.
He stepped directly in front of Paige’s cell. The sheer aura of menace rolling off him made her step back, gasping for breath.
"You mentioned Nadia, Paige," Ezra continued softly, stepping closer. "For two years, I blamed myself. I thought the icy roads, the slick tires, the bad luck took my wife away from me. But Willa and her federal task force dug up the maintenance logs of Nadia's car. The brake lines weren't worn down by weather. They were cleanly severed with a precision tool."
Paige’s face drained of every last trace of color. Her lips trembled, and she opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
"You wanted her gone," Ezra whispered, leaning in until his face was inches from the bars. "Because Nadia discovered that you were embezzling millions from the shipping accounts to fund your gambling debts in Atlantic City. She was going to tell me that very night."
Griffin stared at Paige in absolute horror from the opposite cell. "You... you bitch! You didn't tell me you killed Nadia! You said it was just a staged accident to get her out of the way!"
"Shut up, you idiot!" Paige shrieked, panic finally breaking her composure. "If I didn't get rid of her, Ezra would have cut us off completely! We would have been penniless!"
Ezra slowly stepped back from the cell, his gray eyes devoid of any human emotion. He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and placed a call.
"Victor," Ezra spoke into the phone.
Down the hall in cell six, the old advisor answered through the intercom speaker. "I'm listening, Ezra."
"You built this syndicate with my father," Ezra said coldly. "You watched these two rot from the inside. Tell me, if my father were sitting in this chair today, what would he do with a traitor who murders family for money?"
Victor’s voice crackled through the speaker, steady and filled with heavy resignation. "He would wipe the bloodline clean, boss. There can be no compromise with cancer."
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"Agreed," Ezra said.
He hung up the phone, turned his back on the screaming, weeping prisoners, and walked out of the basement without looking back. Behind him, the sound of heavy metal bolts sliding into place signaled the end of the line.
