Chapter 5 - THE SHOWDOWN IN THE EAST WINGThe silence in the room was deafening.
Dr. Harrison let out a small, terrified squeak and backed up two steps, his knees visibly knocking together. The two tactical guards hesitated, their hands hovering nervously over their holstered weapons, completely unsure of what to do.
Viktor swallowed hard, his face going completely gray. He tried to force his usual smooth smile back onto his face, but his lip twitched uncontrollably.
“Damian...” Viktor stammered, his voice cracking. “You’re... you’re standing! My God, it’s a miracle! Harrison, look at him!”
“Save it, Viktor,” Damian said, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. Each thud of his leather boots echoed like a death knell in the quiet room. “I know about the digitalis.”
Dr. Harrison gasped, dropping his medical bag onto the floor. “I... I was ordered to! He threatened my family, Mr. Volkov! He said he’d—”
“Shut up!” Viktor roared, suddenly pulling a compact snub-nosed revolver from his jacket lining, aiming it straight at Damian’s chest.
Before Viktor could align his sights, Damian moved with blinding, instinctual speed.
He didn't draw his gun. He reached out, grabbed Viktor’s wrist, and twisted it downward with terrifying force.
CRACK!
Viktor let out a blood-curdling scream as his wrist snapped like a dry twig. The revolver tumbled from his grip. Damian caught the falling gun in mid-air with his left hand, reversed it, and slammed the heavy steel butt directly into Viktor’s nose.
Blood sprayed across the wallpaper. Viktor stumbled backward, collapsing onto his hands and knees, clutching his broken face, sobbing in pain.
The two tactical guards instinctively drew their pistols, but before they could raise them, the hallway behind them echoed with heavy, tactical boots.
Marco and four heavy-set men clad in black combat gear rushed into the corridor, their assault rifles raised, pinning Viktor’s men against the wall.
“Drop them!” Marco yelled, slamming one guard against the doorframe while the other quickly threw his weapon to the floor.
Damian stood over Viktor, looking down at his former best friend with a cold, unyielding gaze. He clicked the hammer back on Viktor’s snub-nosed revolver.
“Eighteen years, Viktor,” Damian whispered softly, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and grief. “I shared my bread with you. I gave you half of Baltimore. And you bought a weak doctor to poison my water like a coward.”
“You... you were getting soft, Damian!” Viktor spat through a mouthful of blood, looking up with pure hatred in his eyes. “You stopped expanding! You refused to take the waterfront contract from the syndicate! You were letting the Russians take our territory because you were tired!”
“I was protecting our people,” Damian replied coldly. “You were selling them.”
He raised the barrel of the gun, aiming it directly between Viktor’s eyes.
“Wait!” I cried out, stepping out from behind Damian, grabbing his forearm.
Damian’s eyes flicked to me, sharp and dangerous. “Do not interfere, Mara.”
“Look at the doorway,” I said, my voice trembling.
Damian looked.
Standing in the open doorway, clutching her faded cloth rabbit, was Lila. Her wide brown eyes were fixed on Damian’s gun, her small body shaking with fear. She didn't understand the mob politics. She didn't understand the money or the poison. All she saw was the man who had been nice to her holding a gun over a bleeding man.
Damian stared at my daughter. The killer in his eyes flickered, fighting against something he hadn't felt in a very long time—humanity.
Slowly, Damian lowered the gun.
“Take him to the basement,” Damian ordered Marco softly. “Lock him in the wine vault. We’ll handle the rest of his network once the sun sets.”
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“And the doctor?” Marco asked, grabbing Dr. Harrison by the collar as the physician wept on his knees.
“Put him in the room next to Viktor,” Damian said. “Give him a glass of his own medicine.”
