Chapter 7
Bastian gagged, clawing uselessly at Alaric’s iron grip as his feet dangled inches above the floor. His face turned deep crimson, his breath whistling through a crushed windpipe.
“Alaric! Stop! You’re killing him!” Bianca screamed, throwing herself against Alaric’s arm, trying to pry his thick fingers away. “He’s your son-in-law! You can’t murder him in front of the Commission!”
Alaric didn’t even look at her. With his free hand, he shoved Bianca aside. She tripped over her designer gown and crashed to the floor, her strings of cultured pearls snapping and scattering across the marble floor like hail.
“Dad,” Serena called out softly.
Alaric didn’t let go, but his eyes flicked toward his daughter.
“Don’t get his filth on your hands,” Serena said, her voice chillingly calm as she rested her palms over her unborn child. “Put him down. Death is too quick for what he deserves.”
Alaric held Bastian suspended for three more agonizing seconds, letting the younger man feel the exact boundary where life ended and darkness began, before opening his fingers. Bastian dropped to the carpet in a heap, coughing violently, dragging ragged gasps of air into his burning lungs.
“My phone…” Bianca sobbed from the floor, clutching her bruised shoulder and looking around in panic. “Call the precinct! Call someone! They’re animals!”
“Your precinct captains were retired this morning, Bianca,” Marco said from the shadows near the doorway, holding up a small black notebook. “Every bribe your family paid over the last five years has been handed to the Federal Strike Force. By midnight, your family name will be toxic in every boardroom and precinct from here to Albany.”
Faye collapsed against the wall, sliding down into a crouch, her hands covering her face as she wept hysterically. “I didn’t know… I swear to God I didn’t know about the poison! Bastian told me she was barren! He said she faked the pregnancy with a prosthetic to keep him trapped!”
Serena walked slowly over to Faye. The younger woman cowered, expecting a blow, but Serena merely looked down at her with cold pity.
“You let him whisper poison in your ear because you wanted a penthouse and a trust fund,” Serena said quietly. “You thought you were replacing me. But look at him, Faye. Look at what you sold your dignity for.”
Faye looked over at Bastian, who was weeping on his hands and knees, drooling blood and saliva onto the Oriental rug.
“Stand up, Bastian,” Alaric ordered.
May you like
Bastian didn’t move. He couldn't.
“I said stand up,” Alaric’s voice boomed, rattling the crystal goblets on the table. “You wanted to be a boss. You wanted to claim the head of my table. Stand up on your own two feet and face what you built.”
