Chapter 7 - THE TRAITOR'S RECKONING
-7
"Daniel..."
Vincent choked out the name, dropping his weapon into the puddle at his feet. He pressed his uninjured hand against his bleeding shoulder, wincing as the crimson liquid leaked rapidly between his fingers.
I walked slowly toward him, the barrel of my SIG Sauer pointed downward, resting casually at my side. The rain soaked through my black suit jacket, sticking the fabric to my shoulders, but I didn't feel the cold. I felt nothing except the cold, hollow certainty of justice being executed.
"You look surprised, Vincent," I said, stopping three feet away from him.
"I... I didn't know," Vincent panted, coughing up a small spray of blood. "The Moretti family... they promised me safe passage to Florida if I gave them the security codes... I didn't know you'd be ready for us..."
"You sat at my table for eleven years," I said, my voice low and steady, carrying over the patter of the rain. "I paid for your mother’s surgery when the public hospitals turned her away. I made you godfather to my nephew—a boy who doesn't even have a father anymore because your leaks got him killed in that warehouse ambush last year."
Vincent flinched, the guilt flashing across his bruised face. "I had debts, Daniel! The syndicate squeeze was too tight—"
"Debts," I interrupted, a dark, humorless laugh escaping my lips. "We all have debts, Vincent. The difference is what we choose to pay with. You chose to pay with the blood of the men who trusted you."
I raised the pistol, bringing the barrel up until it was level with the center of his forehead.
Vincent squeezed his eyes shut, his whole body shaking violently. "Please, Daniel... remember the old days. Remember my mother. Have mercy."
"Mercy is a luxury for men who haven't crossed the line," I whispered.
Before I could pull the trigger, a sharp, frantic shout echoed from the main entrance behind me.
"Daniel! Stop!"
I froze. I glanced over my shoulder.
Elena stood on the stone porch of the mansion, clutching a heavy wool coat around her shoulders, her hair whipping wildly in the wind. She wasn't holding a weapon, but her dark eyes were wide with desperate urgency as she stared at me through the rain.
"Don't do it," she called out, taking a step down toward the courtyard. "Don't let him drag you down into the dirt with him. If you kill him like an executioner in the dark, you become your father. You become the monster you spent your whole life trying not to be."
Her words hit me like a physical blow.
The barrel of my gun wavered by a fraction of an inch. I looked down at Vincent, who was whimpering on the ground, and then back at Elena, standing in the doorway with the light of the mansion spilling out behind her, illuminating the woman who had come to kill me and ended up saving my soul instead.
I slowly lowered the pistol, clicking the safety back into place.
"You're right," I muttered, my voice echoing in the wet courtyard.
I turned my head toward Paulie, who had jogged up beside me with two enforcers.
"Throw him in the subterranean holding cells," I ordered coldly, gesturing toward Vincent's bleeding form. "Let him rot in the dark until he's ready to sign a full confession detailing every asset the Moretti family owns. And if he makes a single sound, gag him."
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"Yes, Boss," Paulie nodded, signaling the enforcers to haul the sobbing traitor to his feet and drag him away toward the basement entrance.
I stood alone in the courtyard for a long moment, letting the rain wash the blood and cordite from my hands. Then, I turned and walked slowly back toward the house, where Elena was waiting in the doorway.
