Chapter 23 #2
The whole world narrows down to that gun barrel against my wife's skin. The warlord inside me gives up instantly.
The empire, the weapons, the billions of dollars. None of it matters. If she dies, I die. I slowly lower my gun and let it drop to the concrete floor with a heavy clatter. Beside me, Ivan curses in Russian, but he lowers his weapon too.
"Let her go," I say. My voice is raw and desperate. "You've got the tablet. You've got the guns. Take them. Just let her walk out of here."
"I'll take the guns," Moretti laughs. He digs the gun harder into Helena's head. "Finish the sequence, Arthur! Download the codes, or I'll put a bullet in your daughter's head."
Arthur’s hands tremble over the keyboard as the progress bar on the monitor inches to 99%. Slowly, he turns his head toward Helena. The gun pressed to his daughter’s temple strips away any remaining hope. In that instant, the truth settles in with crushing certainty.
Men like Moretti don’t leave survivors.
"Daddy, no," Helena whispers. Tears spill over her bruised cheeks.
"I'm done paying you, Moretti," Arthur says.
"Press the damn button!" Moretti roars.
"Go to hell!" Arthur screams, pulling his hands away from the keyboard.
He launches himself out of his chair and throws his whole weight at Moretti, shoving the gun away from Helena's head.
Everything happens in a blur.
Helena shrieks and stumbles backward in a panic to get away. The men lose their grip as she drops.
Arthur grabs Moretti's wrist, but the Italian Don is too fast and too strong. Moretti twists his arm and jams the muzzle of the gun right into Arthur's chest.
He pulls the trigger.
The loud crack of the gunshot echoes through the room, and Arthur's chest erupts in blood. He collapses to the floor, gasping for air.
But the distraction buys me a second.
Moretti staggers backward, his grip faltering as Arthur’s weight throws him off balance.
It’s enough.
My hand drops to the holster strapped to my thigh, moving on instinct. The pistol clears leather and fires twice.
Crack. Crack.
Both bullets hit Don Moretti right between the eyes. The back of his skull blows out, painting the server racks red as his lifeless body crumples to the floor.
Ivan doesn't hesitate. Before the two men can even react, he raises his rifle and puts a burst into both of their chests. They drop dead right beside her.
"Helena!" I sprint across the room.
She collapses into my arms, sobbing. I pull her tight against my chest. My hands are shaking as I bury my face in her hair.
"Daddy!" she screams. She pulls away from me and drops to her knees beside her father.
I step forward, kick Moretti’s gun out of reach, and sweep the room in one hard glance to make sure it’s clear.
The console still flashes 99%, tauntingly close. I cancel the hack, rip the tablet free from the motherboard, and relish as the tension in my chest finally eases.
The empire is safe.
Ivan stands a few feet away with his rifle raised, still tracking the doorway for threats.
“Get on the comms,” I tell him, my voice steady despite the gunpowder in the air. “Tell our men Moretti is dead. Broadcast it over the speakers. Break their morale.”
I hold his gaze.
“Then kill every last one of them. No survivors. Go.”
Ivan nods grimly, his bloodlust matching my own, and steps out of the control room to finish the massacre.
The war is won, but as I turn back, the true cost of the victory is right there on the concrete.
Arthur is lying on his back and clutching his chest.
Blood is pooling fast beneath him, soaking his shirt. His breathing is wet and rattling.
"Daddy, please," Helena begs. She presses her hands over his wound, her tears mixing with his blood. "Konstantin, call a medic! Please!"
"Helena," Arthur coughs. He reaches up a shaking, bloody hand to touch her cheek. "It's too late, sweetheart. Let me look at you."
I stand over them with a blank face. Arthur looks away from his daughter and at me. His eyes are completely hollow.
"I'm sorry," Arthur chokes out. "Konstantin, I'm so sorry."
I frown, my jaw clenching. "Save your breath, Blackwood. You took a bullet for my wife. Your debts are settled."
“No,” Arthur gasps, a bloody tear slipping from the corner of his eye. “They aren’t.”
His breath shudders in his chest.
“Twenty years ago, Moretti offered me the money I needed to expand my fleet. I was greedy, Konstantin. I wanted the empire.” His voice cracks. “So I gave them your father’s coordinates.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, as if the memory alone is unbearable.
“I swear to God, I didn’t know they would use them to slaughter your entire family.”
Hearing him say it out loud strips away whatever humanity I have left. He finally admitted to the cowardly betrayal that has fueled my need for revenge for years.
The monster inside me screams to finish it. My hand twitches toward my gun. The man bleeding out on the floor right in front of me is the reason my father, mother, and sister are dead. I want to empty the rest of my magazine into his chest.
But then I look at Helena. She's staring at her father, devastated. Her entire world is collapsing around her.
"I couldn't live with the guilt," Arthur sobs. He looks back at his daughter, his voice growing weak. "I tried to walk away. I told the Italians I was done. But Moretti wouldn't let me go."
"Daddy, what are you talking about?" she cries, shaking her head.
"The crash, Helena," Arthur whispers, coughing up blood. "That night on the coastal road. The rain, the slick road. The police told you I lost control of the car."
"You did," she sobs. "It was an accident."
"It wasn't an accident," Arthur cries, his face twisting in pain. "They tampered with the brakes. When I hit the curve, the pedal was gone. The car spun twice and tore through the guardrail."
He chokes on a sob. "They didn't care if I lived or died, Helena. To them, it was a message. If I died, they would've seized my fleet. I survived by luck, but your mother didn't."
Helena freezes. The color drains from her face. She stares at him like she can't understand the words. Her hands are shaking.
"No," she gasps, her voice trembling as she shakes her head. "No, you're lying. It was the rain. It was the rain!"
"I'm so sorry, my sweet girl," he chokes out.
Helena lets out a broken wail of grief that shatters what's left of my heart. She hunches forward and clutches her stomach like she's been physically gutted.
"The police thought it was the weather," Arthur confesses. His chest is barely rising now. "But Moretti called me while I was still in the hospital. He told me if I didn't keep working and smuggling for them, they'd do the same thing to you."
"Why didn't you go to the cops? Why didn't you tell them?"
"The Mafia is too big for the police, Helena," Arthur wheezes.
He looks at her, pleading with her to understand.
"Even if they locked Moretti away, there'd always be another soldier or hitman waiting in the dark to take you.
I couldn't risk it. The debt notes. I was paying them millions to keep you off their radar. To keep my little girl safe."
He turns his head slowly and looks at me one last time. His vision is fading fast, but his eyes are clear.
"I watched you tonight, Konstantin. I watched you drop your gun. I saw you offer to give up your tablet, your weapons, your entire empire… to let her walk away."
A wet cough rattles his chest. "I spent my whole life being a coward. But you aren't. I leave my daughter in your hands. I trust you to keep her safe." He swallows hard. His breathing is shallow now. "I ruined your family, Konstantin, and I ruined mine. Forgive me."
Arthur’s hand slips from Helena’s cheek. His chest stutters, and then he goes still.
"No!" Helena screams. She collapses over his body, her shoulders shaking as she sobs. "Daddy! Please!"
I stand frozen in the flashing lights of the control room. The man who caused my family’s death lies at my feet. The revenge I planned for twenty years is finally complete.
But there’s no triumph. No peace.
The gun slips from my hand as I sink to my knees on the bloody concrete. My arms wrap around my wife, pulling her away from the body and pressing her tight against my chest.
My face buries in her neck as she falls apart in my arms.
The war is won. The revenge is mine.
Yet as her sobs echo against the cold concrete, none of it feels like victory.