Chapter 12 - A MONSTER’S CONFESSION
Adrian didn't look at Caroline.
His dark eyes found me instantly.
He dropped the weapon, fell to his knees in the mud, and pulled out a tactical knife.
With two swift slices, he cut the ropes binding my wrists and ankles.
His hands were shaking as he pulled me against his broad, wet chest.
"Nora," he breathed, his voice cracking.
He cupped my bleeding cheek, his eyes burning with terrifying fury.
"Did she hurt you?"
"I'm fine," I gasped, holding onto his soaked lapels.
"Adrian, she didn't get the chip. It's in my boot."
He closed his eyes for a single second, pressing his forehead against mine.
"Thank God," he whispered.
Caroline scrambled backward on her elbows, sobbing in absolute terror.
"Adrian, please!" she begged, her expensive gown ruined in the filth.
"It was my father! It was Grant! They forced me!"
Adrian stood up slowly.
He turned toward her, his silhouette towering in the rain.
"You held a blade to my wife's throat," Adrian said softly.
The word wife hung in the air, heavy, final, and lethal.
Before Adrian could take another step, footsteps pounded on the gravel outside.
Vincent Wells stepped into the crushed container, flanked by Grant Mercer and eight armed syndicate guards.
"Back away from my daughter, Vale!" Vincent shouted, his assault rifle raised.
Grant stood beside him, a vicious grin on his face.
"You survived the vault, cousin," Grant mocked.
"Too bad you won't survive the harbor."
Adrian didn't raise his hands.
He stepped directly in front of me, shielding my entire body.
"Grant," Adrian said, his voice echoing off the water.
"You burned my mother alive."
Grant laughed, a high, nervous sound swallowed by the storm.
"Your father was weak!" Grant yelled, rain washing over his face.
"He wanted to turn our family into honest businessmen! He wanted to pay taxes!"
Grant took a step forward, his eyes venomous.
"Vincent offered me half the city! All I had to do was lock the cellar doors and light the match!"
Silence fell over the pier, broken only by the crashing waves.
The eight guards behind Vincent stopped.
They exchanged uneasy glances.
In the mafia world, business assassinations were accepted.
Burning a boss’s wife and children alive was an unforgivable sin against the code.
Adrian smiled.
It was a cold, terrifying smile that sent shivers down my spine.
"Thank you, Grant," Adrian said calmly.
I reached down, pulled the micro-transmitter from my collar, and held it up.
"Every word," I announced, my voice cutting through the wind.
"Broadcast live to the Five Families council in New York and South Philly."
Grant’s face turned an awful shade of grey.
His phone in his pocket began to buzz frantically.
Then Vincent’s phone rang.
The guards behind Vincent lowered their rifles.
"What are you doing?!" Vincent screamed at his men.
"Shoot them! I pay your salaries!"
The lead guard spat into the puddle.
"We kill for territory, Wells," the man growled.
May you like
"We don't protect child killers."
The guards turned their backs and melted into the foggy rain.
