Chapter 7 - The Stand-off in the West Wing
-7-
The red emergency lights cast long, distorted shadows across the crimson carpets of the west wing corridor. Dante Vance stood relaxed, his finger resting casually inside the trigger guard of his pistol, surrounded by four heavily armed enforcers whose laser sights painted red dots across Victor’s chest. Yet, despite being outnumbered and outgunned in his own corridor, Victor Blackwood didn't flinch an inch. His posture remained rigid, his breathing steady, his dark eyes locked onto Dante with the cold calculation of an executioner.
“You always were arrogant, Dante,” Victor said, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a razor blade. “You thought skimming a few million from the charity accounts and cutting deals behind my back made you a boss. You’re nothing more than an office rat playing in a lion's den.”
Dante’s smug smile faltered slightly, a flash of genuine anger crossing his face. “Shut your mouth, Victor. For ten years I’ve carried your bags, managed your dirty logistics, and watched you take all the glory while I did the real work. Tonight, that ends. Once I put a bullet in your head, the syndicate council will vote me in as the new head by morning—and your little bastard and his little nanny here can join you in a shallow grave out in the pines.”
My heart hammered against my ribs so violently I thought it would burst. I clutched sleeping Ethan tighter against my chest, turning his face away from the horrifying scene playing out in front of us. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but my feet were glued to the floor. Victor’s broad back was the only thing standing between us and certain death.
“You think the syndicate council will follow a traitor?” Victor mocked smoothly, shifting his weight just a fraction. “Ask your men behind you who they’re really loyal to, Dante. Check your comms.”
Dante frowned, his hand instinctively reaching for his earpiece. “Don't listen to him—!”
Before Dante could finish his sentence, the heavy brass wall sconces down the hall suddenly flickered and went dark. From the shadows behind Dante’s four enforcers, two silenced shots rang out with a dull thwack-thwack.
Both rear enforcers dropped silently to the floor before they even had time to raise their rifles.
Marcus stepped out of the darkness behind them, his assault rifle leveled squarely at the remaining two guards. The two surviving mercenaries spun around in absolute panic, but before they could bring their weapons to bear, Victor fired twice. Both men collapsed instantly, leaving only Dante standing alone in the center of the corridor, his face completely drained of color as he realized he had been played into a tactical trap.
“You... you son of a bitch,” Dante stammered, frantically raising his pistol toward Victor.
Victor didn't even give him the satisfaction of a fair duel. He stepped to the side, and before Dante could pull his trigger, Marcus’s rifle cracked once. A clean, non-lethal round shattered Dante’s right knee.
Dante shrieked in agony, dropping his pistol as he collapsed hard onto the carpet, clutching his shattered kneecap while blood pooled beneath his trousers.
Victor walked forward slowly, his leather shoes clicking rhythmically against the floor, stopping right above writhing Dante. He looked down at his former capo with absolute, chilling contempt.
“You wanted my empire, Dante?” Victor asked quietly, pressing the barrel of his pistol gently against Dante’s forehead. “Consider this your hostile takeover.”
“Wait! Victor, wait!” Dante screamed, tears of pain streaming down his face as he clawed at the carpet. “Serena... Serena has a backup plan! She put a tracker in the baby’s medical file! If anything happens to us, the federal strike force will breach the estate in twenty minutes—!”
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Victor didn't hesitate. He pulled the trigger—not into Dante’s head, but sending a bullet screaming right past Dante’s ear into the wood paneling, burying any further words in a deafening shockwave.
“Marcus,” Victor commanded without looking back. “Drag him down to the vault. Put him in the cell right next to Serena. Let them share the consequences of their ambition.”
