Chapter 7 - THE RECKONING AT THE RIVERBANK"Don't move," Sal ordered, stopping ten paces away. His eyes swept over Brier, Posie, and finally locked onto Brutus. "End of the line, old friend. You gave us a good run, but the house always wins."
Big Mike stepped forward, holding a thick steel chain with a heavy padlock meant for securing shipping containers.
Brier stood up, stepping directly in front of Posie’s wheelchair, her hands outstretched defensively, though she had nothing left to fight with. "Leave us alone, Sal. Take the money, take whatever you want, just let my daughter go."
Sal chuckled darkly. "Money? Brier, I don't give a damn about the fifty grand anymore. That dog humiliated me. He embarrassed my operation on Clearfield Street. And in my world, disrespect is paid for in blood."
He raised his right hand, signaling his enforcers to raise their weapons. "Mike, put the kid in the car. Put the dog down."
Big Mike cracked his massive knuckles and took a heavy step forward.
That was the exact second Brutus changed.
The docile, gentle guardian who carried a paralyzed six-year-old girl to school every morning vanished. In his place stood the apex predator of the old Leone syndicate—a 160-pound war dog bred for protection, hardened by fire, and driven by absolute, unyielding loyalty.
Brutus didn't growl. He let out a bone-shattering roar that echoed off the concrete bridge above like a thunderclap.
Before Big Mike could lift his hands, Brutus charged. He hit the enforcer with the velocity of a freight train, driving the 250-pound man backward off his feet and sending him crashing into the muddy riverbank. Before Big Mike could even scream, Brutus’s massive jaws clamped onto the man's wrist, snapping the bone with a sickening crack and sending his firearm flying into the river.
"Shoot him! Shoot the damn dog!" Sal screamed, his composure shattering instantly.
The remaining three enforcers raised their pistols, but Brutus moved with blinding, unnatural speed. He used Big Mike’s falling body as a springboard, leaping sideways into the second enforcer and sending both tumbling down the steep, muddy embankment toward the water.
Bang! Bang!
Bullets chewed up the turf around Brier and Posie.
"Get down, Posie!" Brier screamed, throwing her body over her daughter’s wheelchair.
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Sal Vane, his face twisted in a mask of pure rage, drew a silver-plated revolver from his shoulder holster, stepped past his scrambling guards, and aimed directly at Brutus’s chest.
"I'll put you down for good, you overgrown stray," Sal snarled, his finger tightening on the trigger.
