Chapter 12 - TURNING THE TABLES
My breath hitched.
Leo.
They had gone to the penthouse?
No—Roman’s men had secured Leo, but Victor had tracked our movements.
“Leave her out of this, Victor,” Roman said, his voice dropping into a lethal growl as he slowly lowered his weapon.
“It’s between you and me.”
“It was always about power, Roman,” Victor sneered, stepping closer, keeping the gun trained on my forehead.
“You inherited an empire you didn't deserve.”
“And I built it from the ground up.”
Victor reached out with his left hand to snatch the manila folder from Roman’s grip.
That split second of distraction was all I needed.
I remembered the oil drum leaking motor fluid near the loading dock steps.
I slammed my heel down onto a patch of spilled gasoline and oil residue near the edge, kicking a discarded flare that had rolled from a security guard's kit.
The flare hissed violently, igniting the thin film of fuel across the concrete floor!
Whoosh!
A wall of fire erupted instantly between Victor and us, blinding his guards with thick black smoke!
Victor shrieked, stumbling backward as flames singed his Italian suit jacket.
Roman moved with the speed of a striking panther.
He vaulted across the burning gap, driving his fist squarely into Victor’s jaw with bone-crushing force.
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Victor crumpled unconscious onto the asphalt.
The remaining mercenaries, blinded and panicked by the sudden fire, dropped their weapons and raised their hands as Roman’s backup team swarmed the dock.
