Chapter 9
Marcus Cole slowly stepped out from behind the vehicle, dropping his weapon onto the gravel with a clatter. His hands rose into the air, his fingers trembling, his aristocratic facade shattered into pathetic ruin.
"Nico..." Marcus stammered, his American accent wavering. "This was a misunderstanding. Gavin called me—he said you were holding his family hostage—"
Nico closed the distance in three measured strides.
He did not raise his gun. Instead, his left hand shot forward like an iron clamp, seizing Marcus by the throat. With brutal, effortless strength, Nico slammed the older man back against the crumpled hood of the SUV. The metal dented beneath the impact.
Nico leaned in close, his handsome, bearded face inches from Marcus’s bulging eyes.
"You funded the contract with the Morellos," Nico whispered, each word dropping like a lead weight into Marcus’s ear. "You authorized the shipment of synthetic poison to my home. You sent an armed strike team to the house where my daughter is giving birth."
"Nico... please," Marcus choked out, clawing weakly at Nico’s iron fingers. "We can settle this. The Cole shipping lines... fifty million in liquid bearer bonds... I'll give you everything."
"You have nothing to give me, Marcus," Nico murmured softly. "Everything you own was built on the permits I granted your father thirty years ago. You are not a rival. You are a tenant who forgot to pay his rent."
Nico drew his Colt 1911 with his right hand, pressing the cold steel barrel against the center of Marcus’s forehead.
"Wait! Wait!" Marcus wailed, tears streaming down his flushed face. "The Morellos... they aren't just hitting the ports! They have someone on the inside of the medical registry! If anything happens to me, they release the offshore records to the federal task force!"
Nico’s finger tightened slightly on the trigger. A faint, terrible smile touched the corners of his lips.
"Do you know why the federal task force has never touched me, Marcus?" Nico asked, his voice a low, hypnotic hum. "Because the assistant director’s daughter had a bone marrow transplant paid for by the Ferrante Foundation six years ago. I don't fear the law. And I certainly do not fear you."
A sharp, piercing cry echoed through the second-floor windows of the estate above.
It was not a cry of pain. It was the raw, triumphant, healthy wail of a newborn baby entering the world.
Nico froze.
His eyes shifted upward toward the brightly lit window of the medical suite. The tension in his shoulders melted, replaced by a profound, breathtaking sense of victory.
His grandson was born.
Nico looked back down at Marcus Cole. The coldness in his eyes returned, absolute and final.
"Cassian," Nico said, without taking his eyes off the trembling man.
"Yes, Boss?"
May you like
"Put Marcus in the trunk of his own car," Nico commanded, lowering his weapon. "Drive him down to the salt marshes in Jersey. Let him listen to the water rise."
Nico turned on his heel and walked back toward the grand stairs, leaving the carnage of the driveway behind him without a single backward glance.
