Chapter 15 - The Traitor's End|
“He’s in the basement holding cell,” Marcus replied, matching Damon’s grim tone. “He’s conscious. He’s been demanding a lawyer for the last two hours.”
Damon scoffed, a dark, humorless sound. “A lawyer. He thinks he’s still playing by corporate rules.”
Damon looked back at Selena and Ruby. “Stay here with Marcus’s wife. Order whatever you want from the kitchen. I have to clean house.”
Selena caught his hand as he turned to leave. She looked at the cold, murderous intent in his eyes. She didn't ask him to show mercy. She just squeezed his fingers.
“Come back to us,” she whispered.
“Always,” Damon promised.
Damon walked down the long, winding staircase into the subterranean levels of the estate. The air grew colder, the luxurious decor replaced by stark concrete and reinforced steel.
He keyed open the heavy door to the holding cell.
Victor Lane was sitting on a metal bench, his hands zip-tied in front of him. His nose was grotesquely swollen from where Damon had broken it on the boardroom table, and his expensive suit was ruined with dried blood.
When Damon walked in, Victor’s arrogant facade cracked, revealing the terrified old man beneath.
“Damon,” Victor pleaded, standing up quickly. “Damon, please. The Sinaloas forced my hand! They threatened my family in Phoenix! I had no choice!”
Damon didn't say a word. He walked slowly across the room, pulling a suppressed pistol from his shoulder holster.
“You sold out my family to protect yours,” Damon said, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. “You used a three-year-old girl as leverage. You broke the fundamental rule of our syndicate, Victor.”
“I built this empire with your father!” Victor shrieked, backing into the corner. “You owe me!”
“I owe my father’s memory,” Damon corrected coldly, raising the pistol. “And he would have killed you himself.”
“Wait! Wait!” Victor begged, dropping to his knees. “I have money! Offshore accounts! Billions! I can sign them all over to you!”
“I don't need your money, Victor,” Damon said, aiming directly at the older man's chest. “I need you to disappear.”
Damon pulled the trigger twice. The suppressed pfft-pfft barely echoed in the soundproof room. Victor Lane collapsed onto the concrete floor, his eyes wide and unseeing.
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Damon looked at the body for a long moment, feeling no remorse. He holstered his weapon and turned around. The traitor was dead. The empire was secure.
It was time to build a new life.
