Chapter 4 - Broken Loyalties
The click of the hammer locking into place echoed like a gunshot in the silent room. None of the other advisers moved; they sat paralyzed, knowing that intervening meant stepping into the line of fire.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t scatter your brains across this mahogany table right now,” Damon murmured, his voice dropping to a terrifying, lethal whisper.
Victor didn't flinch. He stared straight ahead at the wall, a bitter smile touching his lips.
“Because if you pull that trigger, Damon, you’ll never see her alive again,” Victor said without a trace of fear. “The men I hired aren’t amateurs. They’re professionals. They took the mother, and by now, they’re already tracking down the little girl.”
Damon’s finger tightened on the trigger. The pressure increased, the metal biting into the cold sweat on Victor’s skin. Every instinct in his body screamed to end the traitor right here, to avenge the violation of his home and the terror inflicted on the child who had somehow wormed her way past his defenses.
But Ruby’s face flashed in his mind—her terrified eyes, the way she gripped her little pink suitcase, the tiny voice whispering, “Mommy said you would know what to do.”
Slowly, deliberately, Damon lowered the gun.
He reached out with his left hand, grabbed Victor by the expensive silk lapels of his suit, and yanked him upright out of the chair with effortless violence, slamming him against the wood-paneled wall.
“Where are they taking her?” Damon snarled, his face inches from the traitor’s.
Victor choked out a laugh, blood vessels bursting in the corner of his eye from the pressure. “You think I’m going to tell you that? I spent ten years building a rival syndicate behind your back, Damon. You thought you owned the Southwest, but I was the one holding the threads. Selena found the ledger. She saw the bank transfers to the men who tried to kill you in Vegas two years ago. She knew too much.”
“And the child?” Damon growled. “She’s three years old!”
“Collateral,” Victor spat. “Loose ends.”
Damon’s fist connected with Victor’s jaw with a sickening crack. The older man slumped sideways, unconscious before he even hit the carpet.
Damon didn’t look back at him. He holstered his weapon, spun on his heel, and strode toward the double doors, throwing them open.
Marcus was waiting in the hallway, flanked by four tactical officers in full gear.
“He talked?” Marcus asked, reading Damon’s face instantly.
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“Not enough,” Damon said, walking at a rapid pace toward his private study. “He mentioned a team. They took Selena to the old rail yard off Interstate 10. They think they have time.”
“They don’t,” Marcus said grimly, touching his radio. “All units, mobilize. Move out in three minutes.”
