Chapter 7 - The Interrogation in the Dark
Deep beneath the immaculate lawns of the Blackwood estate, far below the wine cellars and the private indoor pool, lay the obsidian-walled holding facility—a subterranean interrogation and detention center unknown to city officials, rival syndicates, and federal agencies alike.
The air down here smelled of damp stone, rusted iron, and the sharp, antiseptic sting of fear.
Serena Montigue sat strapped to a heavy steel chair in the center of a harshly lit concrete room, her expensive designer dress stained with dirt, her hair falling out of its immaculate updo in disheveled blonde strands.
Her aristocratic composure had completely evaporated, replaced by a frantic, high-pitched hysteria as the heavy hydraulic door hissed open and Victor Blackwood stepped into the room.
He didn't wear his suit jacket; his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing thick, corded forearms covered in faint, jagged scars from decades of brutal turf wars.
"Victor!" Serena screamed, lunging forward as far as the heavy leather straps would allow, her eyes bloodshot and wide with terror.
"You can't do this to me! Untie me right now! My father is a federal judge! The moment the Montigues realize I'm missing—"
"Your father is currently sitting in a federal holding cell in Washington, DC, answering questions about three decades of bribery, money laundering, and syndicate collaboration," Victor interrupted calmly, pulling up a heavy metal chair and sitting down directly across from her.
He rested his elbows on his knees, lacing his massive fingers together and staring at her with eyes that looked like frozen obsidian.
"You... you lied to me," Serena whimpered, the fight suddenly draining out of her as the sheer weight of her ruined life crashed down upon her shoulders.
"I loved you, Victor. I wanted to build an empire with you."
"You wanted to steal my empire, kill my son, and frame an innocent girl to cover your tracks," Victor corrected, his voice dropping into a register so dangerously low and flat that it sent a visible shiver down Serena’s spine.
"And worst of all, you laid your hands on my flesh and blood."
"I didn't mean to break his arm!" Serena sobbed hysterically, tears streaming down her powdered cheeks, ruining what remained of her makeup.
"He wouldn't stop crying! He kept screaming for his mother! I just wanted him to shut up!"
Victor stood up slowly.
He didn't yell.
He didn't strike her.
He simply walked over to a stainless steel tray resting against the wall, picking up a heavy, thick manila folder filled with financial transcripts, encrypted text logs, and high-definition surveillance stills captured from the foyer cameras.
He tossed the folder onto Serena’s lap, letting the pages scatter across her knees.
"Sign the full confession, Serena," Victor whispered into her ear, his breath hot and lethal.
"Sign away your shares of the family estate, your trust funds, and your legal rights, and I’ll grant you a quick, painless exit from this world."
"And if I don't?" Serena gasped, her voice trembling violently.
May you like
"If you don't," Victor said, stepping back and turning toward the heavy hydraulic door, "I’ll hand you over to Marcus Vance’s rival faction on the South Side. Let’s see how long an aristocratic princess lasts when she’s the primary entertainment for a hundred cartel enforcers."
The door hissed shut behind him, leaving Serena alone in the glaring light, sobbing hysterically as the reality of her eternal damnation finally settled into her soul.
