Chapter 6 - ResurrectionViktor froze at the top of the stairs, his weapon dropping an inch as his eyes widened in absolute, primal horror.
"Thomas...?" Viktor breathed, his voice cracking like dry ice. "No. No, I watched the building burn! I watched you turn to ash!"
"You watched a decoy, Viktor," Thomas said, his voice deep, steady, and terrifyingly calm as he walked through the shattered remains of the front door. He raised his rifle, locking the red-dot sight squarely on his older brother’s chest. "You always were arrogant. You thought because you controlled the family accounts, you controlled everything. You never realized that some men build empires not on money, but on survival."
I stepped out from the shadows, keeping my pistol raised just in case Viktor tried a desperate shot. "So," I said, looking from Thomas to the service hallway where Maria and Sofia were hiding. "You're the ghost who sent his family straight into my living room."
Thomas didn't look away from his brother, but his shoulders relaxed slightly. "I'm sorry, Daniel. I knew if I asked you for help directly, your syndicate instincts would flag it as a trap. But I also knew the legend of Daniel Hale. I knew that beneath the cold walls and the iron gates, you had a code that money couldn't buy. I told Maria that if anyone in New York could keep my family safe from Viktor’s reach, it was the man who never let anyone see what could hurt him."
Viktor’s face twisted into a mask of pure venom. "You think you've won, little brother? My men have the entire city surrounded! The commission knows I'm here! If I go down, your little sanctuary goes up in flames!"
"Your men are currently dealing with the federal task force I called thirty minutes ago," I interrupted, a grim smile finally touching the corners of my mouth. "Federal indictments, Viktor. RICO charges, money laundering, international arms trafficking. Your accounts have already been frozen by the time you walked through my door."
Viktor’s eyes darted frantically toward the exit, calculating his odds. Zero.
With a feral snarl, he whipped his submachine gun upward to fire at Thomas—
Bang.
May you like
Thomas’s rifle spoke once. A clean, precise shot that took Viktor square in the shoulder, spinning him around and sending his weapon clattering across the marble floor.
Before Viktor could hit the ground, two of my loyal capos—men who had stayed true when the rest of the world doubted—stepped out from the shadows, zip-tying his hands behind his back before he could even draw breath.
