Chapter 7 - The Interrogation of Viktor Vance
The underground armory of the Ashford estate smelled of gun oil, burnt gunpowder, and cold concrete. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered intermittently, casting long, harsh shadows across the concrete floor where a single heavy metal chair stood anchored to the foundation.
Viktor Vance, the ruthless leader of the Iron Vipers, was tied securely to that chair.
His immaculate grey suit was ruined, stained with mud, sweat, and dried blood. His left eye was swollen shut, and his split lip leaked a slow trickle of crimson down his chin. Despite his battered state, a jagged, defiant sneer remained plastered across his face.
The heavy steel door swung open with a slow, grinding screech.
Dominic Ashford walked in. He wore a fresh black shirt and a heavy woolen coat, his face carved from cold, unyielding granite. Behind him walked Isla, her expression composed, though her hands were clenched tightly inside the pockets of her cardigan.
Dominic stopped three feet away from the captive mafia boss. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. The sheer aura of lethal authority radiating from him made the air in the room feel heavy.
“Viktor,” Dominic said softly, his voice like grinding ice. “You breached my gates. You sent your mercenaries into my home. You frightened a civilian who has nothing to do with our war.”
Viktor spat a glob of blood onto the concrete, letting out a harsh, gravelly laugh. “Look at you, Ashford. You’re bleeding through your suit. You think you’re a king, but you’re soft. You brought a civilian into your nest like a sentimental fool. The Vipers didn't just come for your territory tonight—we came to take your weakness.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed into lethal slits. He took a slow step forward, his hand resting casually on the butt of his pistol.
“You call her a weakness,” Dominic whispered, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly calm register. “That is your final mistake.”
Before Dominic could draw his weapon, Isla stepped out from the shadows behind him.
She walked right past the mafia boss, stopping just inches away from Viktor Vance. The bruised, battered syndicate leader looked up at her, blinking his good eye in surprise. He had expected a cowering nurse; instead, he found a pair of eyes burning with cold, absolute resolve.
“You’re the one who paid Dr. Henderson,” Isla said, her voice steady, clear, and utterly devoid of fear.
Viktor smirked, blood bubbling on his lip. “Ah. The little nurse. You should have taken the money and run south, sweetheart. Now you’re tied to a sinking ship—”
Slap.
The sharp, echoing crack of Isla’s hand striking Viktor’s face cut him off mid-sentence. The force of the blow snapped his head sideways, sending another spray of blood across his collar.
Viktor stared at her in stunned disbelief.
Isla didn’t flinch. She rubbed her stinging palm, her voice dropping into a chilling, hardened tone that sounded more like Dominic than a hospital nurse.
“I spent four years working night shifts in trauma wards, watching people die because monsters like you treat human lives like chess pieces,” Isla said, leaning down so her face was inches from his. “You sent armed thugs to terrorize my home, you threatened my little brother, and you thought I would break. Let me make something very clear to you, Viktor: I am not afraid of you. And I am certainly not afraid of your Syndicate.”
Dominic stood slightly behind her, watching her with an expression that was a complex mixture of absolute awe, fierce pride, and a terrifying depth of devotion. The woman he had hired to keep him sane had just stared down one of the most feared crime lords in Chicago without blinking an eye.
“Kill me, then,” Viktor snarled, glaring up at both of them. “The Vipers will never stop. Someone else will come for her. You can’t protect her forever, Ashford!”
Dominic stepped forward, pulling his pistol from its holster with cold, deliberate slowness. He pressed the cold steel barrel directly against Viktor’s forehead.
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“You’re right about one thing, Viktor,” Dominic whispered, his voice like the grave. “The Vipers won't stop. Which is why by dawn, there won't be any Vipers left.”
Bang.
