Chapter 8 - The Midnight Ultimatum
The dining room chandelier seemed to dim under the weight of Julian's confession.
Uncle Antonio crossed his arms, his knuckles white, his veteran enforcers already blocking the dining room exits.
"Tell me what you said to her," I commanded, the metal of the gun digging deeper into Julian’s flesh, drawing a tiny bead of dark red blood.
"Tell me every word, Julian, or I will dismantle you joint by joint before the sun sets."
Julian winced at the pain, but the sadistic gleam in his eye did not extinguish.
"I didn't even have to raise my voice," Julian mocked softly.
"I met her in the subterranean garage while you were still washing blood off your hands at the port."
"I showed her the live feed on my tablet."
"I had two Mexican hitmen positioned on the rooftop across from your master bedroom."
"They had high-powered rifles with thermal optics locked onto your pillow."
"I told her, 'The moment you speak a word to Dominic, the trigger is pulled.'"
"I told her, 'If you take one dollar of his money, I will report the transfer to my cartel partners as stolen funds, and they will butcher Dominic and his entire bloodline.'"
"I gave her two choices, Dominic."
Julian’s lips curled into a sickening sneer.
"Option one: she stays with you, she tries to play the hero, and she watches your brain matter decorate your silk sheets within twenty-four hours."
"Option two: she signs the divorce papers without contesting a single clause, she takes the blame for Helios Maritime, and she disappears into the gutter like a stray dog."
A tear of absolute, burning agony slipped down my own cheek.
Four years.
Four agonizing years of believing that the woman I adored had abandoned me out of disgust.
Four years of convincing myself that she had looked at my violent life and decided I wasn't worthy of her love.
And all the while, she had stripped herself of every penny, every comfort, every connection, and every ounce of human dignity just to keep my lungs drawing breath.
She had slept on freezing concrete so that I could sleep in a penthouse.
She had dug through trash cans for aluminum scrap so that I could wear thousand-dollar suits.
"She chose you, Dominic," Julian whispered, laughing softly into the barrel of my gun.
"She destroyed her entire existence so you could keep playing king of Dallas."
"And the best part?"
"You didn't suspect a damn thing."
"You spent four years drinking expensive Scotch and hating her for walking away."
"You hated the only person on this miserable earth who actually loved you."
Before Julian could finish his sentence, my left fist crashed into his jaw with the force of a hydraulic piston.
Bone cracked violently.
Julian was lifted off his feet, his body slamming against the edge of the mahogany table, shattering china plates and crystal wine glasses before collapsing onto the floor in a heap of blood and tailored wool.
"Boss!" Frank yelled, stepping forward to restrain me.
"Step back, Frank!" I roared, my vision completely bathed in crimson.
Julian rolled onto his back, spitting out two broken molars and a mouthful of dark blood onto my grandmother’s antique rug.
He didn't scream.
He just lay there, coughing, laughing through the crimson spray coating his lips.
"Go ahead, Dom," Julian wheezed, wiping his bloody chin with the back of his hand.
"Shoot me."
"Put a bullet in my head right here on the carpet."
"Do it, and see what happens to your little angel in the trash heap."
My finger froze against the curved metal of the trigger.
"What did you do, Julian?" I whispered, my voice shaking with an unnatural terror that no cartel army had ever made me feel.
Julian's broken smile widened.
"You think my men in that black Dodge Charger were just observing?"
"The moment she ran out the back door of that diner, the order was executed."
"They didn't chase her down Commerce Street."
"They went straight to her rat hole on Elm Street."
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"By now, the shelter has been cleared."
"And Madison Parker is sitting in the trunk of a car on her way to the Trinity River."
