Chapter 7 - The Contract of Blood
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Three hours later, the hospital waiting room felt like a suffocating cage.
Wade stood by the window, watching two black, unmarked SUVs pull into the hospital’s circular driveway below. Four men in heavy trench coats stepped out, moving with the distinct, arrogant swagger of Bratva enforcers. They carried a sleek, black leather briefcase.
“They’re here,” Wade murmured, turning to Silas. “Keep Audrey in the private room. She doesn’t need to see this.”
Wade walked out into the main corridor, flanked by a dozen of his own heavily armed men. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on. The hospital staff had long since retreated to the nurses' station, terrified by the standoff between the two rival mafia factions.
The lead Russian, a massive, scarred man named Ivan, smirked as he approached Wade. He popped the latches on the briefcase and turned it around, revealing a stack of legal documents detailing the complete surrender of the South Side ports.
“Sign on the dotted line, Mercer,” Ivan sneered, handing Wade an expensive fountain pen. “Roman sends his regards. He hopes the bastard child appreciates the gift.”
Wade didn’t blink. He didn't show an ounce of the murderous rage boiling in his veins. He took the pen and methodically signed his name on every single page, legally handing over an empire worth hundreds of millions of dollars.
He tossed the pen onto the documents.
“It’s done. Make the call,” Wade ordered.
Ivan checked the signatures, satisfied, and pulled out a satellite phone. He spoke rapidly in Russian for a few moments, then ended the call.
“The jet is in the air,” Ivan grinned, snapping the briefcase shut. “The heart will be at the private airstrip in four hours. Pleasure doing business with you, Wade.”
The Russians turned and walked away, their laughter echoing down the sterile hallway.
Silas stepped up beside Wade, his fists clenched tightly. “They’re going to regret laughing, Boss.”
“Let them enjoy their victory for the next twelve hours,” Wade said coldly, watching the elevator doors close behind the enemy. “Because tomorrow, they won’t have the breath to laugh.”
May you like
Wade turned and walked back into Audrey’s room. She was asleep on the vinyl couch, exhausted by the emotional trauma. Wade gently brushed a strand of dark hair from her face, making a silent, violent vow to the woman he loved.
He was going to save their son, and then he was going to burn the world down to keep them safe.
