Chapter 8 - Checkmate
Lorenzo raised his pistol, aiming it squarely at my chest. The men behind him leveled their rifles, waiting for his command.
"Any last words before I send you to join your dear sister?" Lorenzo sneered, his finger tightening slightly on the trigger.
I didn't flinch. Instead, I let out a low, cold laugh that made him hesitate for a fraction of a second.
"You always were arrogant, Lorenzo," I said smoothly. "You assumed that because I was mourning, I stopped watching. You assumed that because I trusted you, I never bothered to check your bank accounts."
Lorenzo’s smirk falter just a fraction. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands," I replied, taking a slow step forward. "The ones where you've been siphoning funds from the syndicate for the past five years. The ones my financial auditors finished tracing three hours ago."
Panic flickered in Lorenzo’s eyes, destroying his cool exterior. "You're bluffing."
"Am I?" I raised two fingers and whistled sharply into the night air.
Instantly, the darkness beyond the railcars erupted with motion. Red laser sights flickered to life by the dozens, painting every single one of Lorenzo’s men across their chests and foreheads.
From the shadows of the surrounding freight cars, a hundred elite enforcers—men who answered only to me, men who had caught wind of Lorenzo’s betrayal earlier that evening—stepped out with their weapons drawn, completely surrounding Lorenzo's strike team.
May you like
Lorenzo’s men immediately looked at each other in panic, dropping their weapons to the gravel one by one as they realized they were hopelessly outgunned.
"Drop the gun, Lorenzo," I commanded, the full weight of my authority crashing down upon him. "Or your life ends right here in the snow."
