Chapter 4 - The Shadow Over Briarwood
Though Jin-Woo had been thoroughly broken, the world Marcus inhabited was a Hydra—cut off one head, and two more appeared.
Viktor Drago, the Russian enforcer, did not have Jin-Woo’s financial exposure. He didn't care about bank accounts or shipping piers. He cared about blood. He saw Marcus’s defense of the little girl as a direct challenge to his own brutal authority on the North Side.
A week after the meeting at The Jade Dragon, the temperature dropped again.
Amara’s mother, Maya Brooks, was sitting at her small kitchen table, staring at the white envelope Marcus had left in her daughter's backpack. Inside had been twenty thousand dollars in cash, along with a business card that simply said: Marcus Han. Anything you need.
She hadn't touched a single dollar. She was a woman who had spent her life surviving on her own terms, and a mountain of cash from a notorious underworld figure felt like a golden trap.
"Mommy?" Amara asked, looking up from her coloring book on the floor. "Are you still worried about the food man?"
"His name is Mr. Han, Mara," Maya said, her voice strained with worry. "And yes. People like him don't just give things away for free."
"He didn't give it away," Amara said firmly. "We traded. He needed the wrench."
Before Maya could reply, the lights in the apartment flickered once, twice, and then died completely.
The hum of the old refrigerator cut out, leaving the room in a heavy, freezing darkness. Outside in the hallway, the emergency lights failed to kick in. A second later, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed on the stairs—slow, deliberate, and loud.
Maya’s instinct for survival screamed inside her head. She scrambled out of her chair, grabbing Amara off the floor and pulling her into the small bedroom, locking the flimsy wooden door behind them.
"Mara, listen to me," Maya whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "Hide under the bed. Right now. Don't make a sound."
"Is it the stray dogs?" Amara asked, her voice surprisingly calm in the dark.
"Just hide, baby!"
A massive blow struck the front door of the apartment. The frame groaned. A second blow shattered the lock, and the door flew open, banging against the wall.
Two men walked into the dark apartment, their flashlights cutting through the air like light-sabers. They wore heavy leather coats and carried short, thick crowbars.
"Where is the girl?" a rough, accented voice called out. It was one of Viktor Drago’s men. "Marcus Han thinks he owns this town. Let's see how much he pays to get his little good luck charm back."
Maya hid behind the bedroom door, her fingers tightly wrapping around an old iron frying pan she had grabbed from the stove. She was ready to die to protect her child.
The men approached the bedroom door. One of them raised his heavy boot to kick it down.
He never got the chance.
A sudden, violent explosion of noise shattered the front hallway. The sound of a suppressed pistol—thwip, thwip, thwip—echoed through the small apartment.
The man with the raised boot choked, dropping his flashlight as he collapsed onto the floor. The second man spun around, raising his crowbar, but a heavy fist smashed into his jaw, sending him crashing into the kitchen table, shattering the wood into splinters.
The lights suddenly flashed back on, blindingly bright.
Maya opened the bedroom door an inch, her eyes wide with terror.
May you like
Standing in her ruined living room was Leo Park, a smoking pistol in his hand, his dark suit completely untouched. Behind him, two other men in black coats were quickly and silently dragging the unconscious intruders out into the hallway.
And sitting in the middle of the doorway, his wheelchair parked perfectly flat on the linoleum, was Marcus Han.
