Chapter 2 - A Gentleman's Debt
Marcus opened the door an inch, the safety chain taut between the frame and the wood. Outside, bathed in the orange glow of the streetlamp, stood Sean. He was alone, his charcoal-grey suit unblemished, his leather-gloved hands folded neatly behind his back. Down the block, two black sedans sat with their engines idling, but no armed men stepped out onto the sidewalk.
"You brought him back to a fire hazard of a tenement," Sean said, his sharp eyes scanning the peeling paint on the doorframe before settling on the dark shape lurking behind Marcus. "Unresponsible."
"He’s her dog now," Marcus said, his knuckles white on his revolver. "You offered a million dollars cash to anyone who could make him sit for five minutes. She did it. Leave us alone."
Sean smiled, though there was no warmth in it. He reached into his inner coat pocket. Marcus flinched, but Sean merely pulled out a thick, leather-bound briefcase and set it on the top step.
"One million dollars," Sean said smoothly. "Clean bills. Unmarked. Consider it the easiest money your family will ever make—or the last."
Carrie stepped up behind her brother, her hand resting on Raleigh’s flank. "We don't want your money, Mr. Sean."
Sean stopped, his eyes widening slightly as he looked down at the small girl. "Excuse me?"
"You paid people to fight him," Carrie said, her voice steady and clear despite her age. "You built a cage and put him in it because you thought making something afraid made you strong. My father told me that taking money from a man who hurts animals makes you part of the cage."
The street fell dead quiet. Even the idling sedans down the block seemed to hush. Marcus looked at his sister like she had completely lost her mind. A million dollars meant medical care for Carrie’s eyes, a real apartment out of the slums, and safety from the debt collectors who harassed them every week.
Sean stared at Carrie for a long, agonizing minute. Then, to Marcus’s utter horror, the mob boss threw his head back and laughed—a rich, deep sound that had no place in this filthy alley.
"Incredible," Sean murmured, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "Thirteen years in this city, and the only person with enough spine to call me a coward is a blind child who weighs sixty pounds."
He stepped closer to the door, his demeanor shifting instantly from amused to ice-cold authority. "Listen to me very carefully, little girl. Raleigh isn't just a dog. He was bred by the Rossi cartel in Colombia. He was trained to break bone on command. When I took him off Rossi’s hands after a raid last year, I realized he was untrainable—too smart, too broken, too angry. So I used him to test the loyalty and courage of my own men."
"He's not a test," Carrie said. "He's alive."
"He is a weapon of war," Sean countered, leaning down so his face was level with hers through the cracked door. "And right now, every rival boss in this city knows that a little girl holds the leash to my deadliest weapon. By taking him, you didn't just win a contest, Carrie. You walked into my war."
"Then take him back," Marcus pleaded, trying to push the briefcase toward Sean with his boot.
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"I can't," Sean said simply. "Raleigh has claimed her. If I try to pull him away from her now, he will kill me, or I will have to put a bullet in his head. And frankly, killing something that miraculous feels like bad luck, even for me."
Sean turned his back on them, walking toward his car. "Keep the briefcase, kid. You'll need it. Because Victor Rossi found out an hour ago that his favorite hound is sleeping in a dump on 4th Street. He’s coming to collect his property."
