Chapter 18 - The Fall of the Cousin
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Julian wept on the floor, clutching his broken ribs. The elegant, arrogant man in the white tuxedo was reduced to a pathetic, shivering mess.
“Victor, please,” Julian begged, blood staining his perfect teeth. “The Falcones promised me the east side operations. They said you were too rigid! You wouldn't expand the narcotics trade! I did it for the family!”
“You did it for your own greed,” Victor corrected, his silver eyes completely devoid of pity. “You brought enemies into our home. You endangered innocent guests. You ordered my death.”
“I’m blood, Victor! You can’t kill your own blood! The Syndicate will turn on you!”
“The Syndicate respects power, Julian,” Victor said softly. “And there is no power in letting a rabid dog live just because it shares your last name.”
Victor looked at Emma. She was standing by the console, her eyes wide as she watched the execution of mafia justice. Victor didn't want her to see this. He didn't want her to witness the absolute monster he had to be.
“Emma,” Victor said, without taking his eyes off his cousin. “Turn around. Close your eyes.”
Emma hesitated. She looked at Julian, the man who had ordered a hit on Victor, the man who had pushed her into boiling water, the man who would kill them both if given the chance.
“No,” Emma said quietly, her voice surprisingly steady.
Victor looked at her in surprise.
“I am not closing my eyes, Victor,” Emma said, standing tall in her rumpled, dust-covered maid’s uniform. “I stand with you. All the way.”
Victor’s chest tightened. He felt a profound, overwhelming surge of devotion for the woman standing across the room. She wasn't just brave; she was unbreakable.
Victor turned back to Julian.
“Goodbye, cousin.”
Victor pulled the trigger. A single, suppressed shot ended the coup. Julian Blackwood collapsed onto the linoleum floor, motionless.
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The security monitors above them flared with action as Marco’s heavily armed team systematically cornered and eliminated the remaining Falcone hitmen upstairs. The war was over. The house was secure.
Victor holstered his weapon. He walked across the room and pulled Emma into a fierce, desperate embrace, burying his face in her hair.
