Chapter 11 - The Trap Closes
|
The thirty guests finally realized they were not leaving this house.
"Please!" one of the male board members cried out, stepping forward with his hands raised. "Mr. Rossi, we didn't know! Brandon forced us to be here! We didn't want to hurt her!"
My father didn't even look at the man. He just raised a single finger.
Two men in black suits stepped forward, grabbed the board member by the collar, and violently threw him back into the center of the room, sending him crashing into a glass coffee table.
"No one speaks unless I ask a question," my father commanded, his voice echoing in the dead silence of the mansion.
He slowly walked toward Brandon.
Brandon was trembling so hard the vial of poison in his hand was rattling. His grand plan had evaporated in less than five minutes. The police weren't coming to save him. The cameras had destroyed his reputation, and the most dangerous man in the city was standing two feet away from him.
"You called me a truck driver, Brandon," my father mused, adjusting his cuffs. "I suppose I do transport things. Today, I'll be transporting thirty bodies if you don't drop that syringe."
May you like
I expected Brandon to fall to his knees. I expected him to beg for his life, to cry, to show the cowardice I knew lived inside him.
But he didn't.
