Chapter 8
The smoke from the discharged weapons drifted lazily over the blue water of the pool, catching the bright, cinematic sunlight. The contrast between the luxurious summer setting and the brutal massacre was jarring, but to Marcus, it was simply the cost of doing business.
He walked slowly toward Julian. The man was on his knees, shivering uncontrollably, completely surrounded by Dante's armed men. The grand coup he had planned had evaporated in less than a minute.
"Where is Genevieve?" Julian stammered, looking past Marcus toward the open stone wall, desperately searching for his sister. "What did you do to her?"
"She is in the cell she built for my wife," Marcus replied, stopping a few feet away. He looked down at Julian with his cold, intimidating eyes. "She will remain there until she loses her mind. And you... you are going to tell me everything about your deal with the Chicago syndicate."
"I won't say a word," Julian spat, trying to summon a final shred of defiance, though his fair, rosy skin was completely drained of color. "If you kill me, Chicago will burn this entire estate to the ground. You have no idea who you are dealing with, Marcus. You think you're untouchable? They have an army."
Marcus crouched down smoothly, resting his forearms on his knees, bringing his face level with Julian's. The sharp, refined tattoos on his neck flexed as he tilted his head.
"You misunderstand your situation, Julian," Marcus whispered, the controlled pauses in his speech stretching the tension to a breaking point. "I am not interrogating you to find out if Chicago is coming. I am interrogating you to find out where they sleep, so I can burn them in their beds before they even know you failed."
Maya walked up beside Marcus, her bare feet silent on the stone tiles. She looked down at the man who had stolen six months of her life.
"Julian," Maya said, her voice surprisingly steady. "Who supplied the poison? The paralytic you used in my tea. That wasn't a street drug. That was military grade."
Julian looked away, his jaw clenching.
Marcus stood up. He didn't yell. He simply nodded to Dante.
Dante stepped forward and drove the heavy steel butt of his rifle directly into Julian's kneecap. The bone shattered with a sickening crack. Julian threw his head back and screamed, a high, agonizing wail that echoed off the stone walls of the estate.
"I asked you a question," Maya repeated, completely unfazed by the violence.
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"It was the Russians!" Julian shrieked, clutching his ruined leg, tears streaming down his face. "The Volkov family! They partnered with Chicago! They supplied the drugs and the men! They want the shipping ports! They're coming, Marcus! They are coming tonight!"
Marcus and Maya exchanged a heavy, significant look. The plot was far larger than a simple family betrayal. It was an international syndicate move.
