Chapter 6
From the shadows of the mezzanine balcony overlooking the ballroom, the sharp, rhythmic crackle of sniper fire tore through the silence.
Three muffled gunshots echoed in rapid succession.
The three rogue guards holding submachine guns crumpled instantly, dropped by high-velocity rounds through their chests before they could even squeeze their triggers. The fourth guard dropped his weapon, throwing his hands in the air, his face gray with absolute terror as red laser sights danced across his forehead.
"On your knees," Gage’s voice bellowed from the upper railing.
The surviving guard dropped to his knees on the marble floor, trembling, pressing his forehead against the carpet.
In the center of the ruined table, Kenneth’s eyes went wide. The arrogance drained from his features, leaving only the sickening realization that he had walked into an ambush he thought he had prepared.
"You knew," Kenneth whispered, his vocal cords straining against Roderic’s forearm.
"I’ve known since Tuesday, Kenneth," Roderic said softly, pressing the barrel of the pistol deeper into the man’s eyelid. "You bought three offshore server nodes through a dummy corporation in Panama. You thought you were using Delphine to test my patience. But you forgot who hired Delphine’s agency in the first place."
Delphine let out a strangled cry from the chair. "Roderic... you knew?"
Roderic didn't look at her. "Her background check showed a four-million-dollar gambling debt in Atlantic City six months ago. I wanted to see who would buy her debt to get close to my house. I just didn't think you'd be stupid enough to use my daughter to do it."
"She’s not your daughter!" Kenneth spat, blood flecking his teeth. "You went soft, Roderic! The Commission ordered the hit! If it wasn't me, it was going to be New York! They gave me the contract on the logistics terminals!"
"The Commission doesn't have the stomach for a war in this city," Roderic said. "They use rats like you to gnaw at the foundation until they think the walls will fall."
Roderic slowly eased his forearm off Kenneth’s throat, but kept the pistol leveled at his forehead.
"Get up," Roderic commanded.
Kenneth rolled off the splintered mahogany, gasping for air, clutching his bruised ribs as he struggled to his feet. His tuxedo was soaked with flower water and wine, his dignity completely shredded in front of eighty wealthy elites.
"Now," Roderic said, gesturing with the gun toward Delphine’s phone, which was still pinned to the table by the carving knife. "Pick up the phone."
"It's smashed," Kenneth wheezed.
May you like
"The audio stream is still active," Roderic replied. "The microphone is transmitting. Tell your friends in Chicago that the party is over."
Kenneth wiped his bloody mouth with the back of his hand. A bitter, desperate laugh escaped his chest. "They already know, Roderic. Look at the wall monitors."
