Chapter 6 - The Lockdown
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Derek swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. The realization of exactly whose diner he had just terrorized crashed down on him like a ton of bricks.
“Mr. Castellano,” Derek stammered, raising his hands in a pathetic gesture of surrender. “I… there’s been a massive misunderstanding here. She was being disrespectful, I was just—”
Vincent’s gaze didn't soften. He didn't blink. His eyes moved precisely once toward the overturned coffee cup on the corner table, then back to the man who had caused it.
“Close the door, Nikki,” Vincent said. His voice wasn't loud. It was a smooth, gravelly baritone that didn't require volume to command absolute obedience.
Nikki, realizing that Vincent knew his name, looked like he was about to faint. He scrambled backward, pulling the heavy glass door shut.
The brass bell gave one last, trembling sound before the latch clicked into place. The lock engaged with a loud, final snap.
Derek finally understood that the name painted on the window had never been a mere decoration. Castellano’s wasn't just a diner. It was a territory.
“Mr. Castellano, please,” Derek begged, his voice cracking as the two massive men in dark coats flanked the diner doors, crossing their arms. “I’ll pay for the damages. I’ll pay her medical bills. Just let us walk out of here.”
Vincent slowly unbuttoned his charcoal suit jacket. He walked past the booths, his expensive leather shoes clicking rhythmically against the linoleum. He didn't stop until he was standing directly over Amelia.
He looked down at Angela, who was pressing the towel to Amelia’s bleeding cheek.
“Is she conscious, Angela?” Vincent asked softly.
“Barely, Boss,” Angela whispered, tears streaming down her face. “He hit her so hard.”
Vincent crouched down, his immaculate trousers brushing the dirty floor. He gently touched Amelia’s shoulder. She groaned, her eyes fluttering open, struggling to focus on the silver-haired man above her.
“Rest, Amelia,” Vincent murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I will handle the garbage.”
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Vincent stood back up, his eyes locking back onto Derek. The gentleness vanished, replaced by a terrifying, demonic calm.
“You don't walk out of my house, Derek,” Vincent said smoothly. “You get carried out.”
