Chapter 6
The private club was an exclusive fortress,
hidden behind a discreet,
unmarked door in the financial district.
Rain slicked the cobblestone alley as my convoy pulled up silently.
Gabriel and a dozen heavily armed operatives stepped out,
forming a protective wall around me.
I wore a black trench coat,
the collar turned up,
my expression completely neutral.
The two massive bouncers at the door reached for their earpieces,
but Gabriel's men disarmed them before they could even draw a breath.
We moved inside,
the heavy bass of classical music echoing through the opulent hallways.
The club smelled of expensive cigars,
aged whiskey,
and arrogant men.
I walked straight toward the VIP lounge,
the heavy velvet curtains parting as my guards pushed through.
Marcus Vance sat at a poker table,
surrounded by bodyguards and high-end escorts.
He was a silver-haired man,
impeccably dressed,
laughing at a joke someone had just told.
When he saw me,
the laughter died instantly.
His bodyguards reached inside their jackets,
but they froze when a dozen laser sights painted their chests.
Marcus slowly placed his whiskey glass on the felt table,
staring at me with calculating eyes.
"Mara Blackwood,"
he said smoothly,
trying to hide his unease.
"I didn't expect you to make a personal appearance,"
he added,
leaning back in his leather chair.
"I prefer to handle my pest control directly,"
I replied,
stepping closer to the table.
Marcus smirked,
though a bead of sweat formed on his temple.
"You are out of your depth, little girl,"
he threatened,
"you think your family's money can protect you from the cartel?"
"I don't need money to protect me,"
I said,
pulling a thick dossier from my coat and tossing it onto the poker chips.
Marcus frowned,
glancing down at the heavily redacted files.
"Those are the exact coordinates of your offshore servers,"
I explained,
"along with the flight logs of your trafficking routes,
and the names of every judge on your payroll."
His smirk vanished,
replaced by a pale,
sickly dread.
"If I don't check in with my security team every hour,"
I continued,
"these files will be sent to Interpol,
the FBI,
and every rival syndicate you have ever crossed."
Marcus swallowed hard,
his eyes darting to Gabriel,
who stood like a statue behind me.
"What do you want,"
Marcus asked,
his voice stripped of all its previous bravado.
"The bounty on my head is lifted immediately,"
I commanded,
"and you will never interfere with Blackwood Holdings,
my family,
or my daughter ever again."
"If you so much as look in my direction,"
I promised,
leaning over the table until we were inches apart,
"I will not just ruin your empire,
I will burn it to ashes while you watch."
Marcus stared into my eyes,
looking for a bluff,
looking for the weak,
pregnant woman Ethan had described to him.
He found nothing but absolute,
unwavering resolve.
"Agreed,"
he whispered,
lowering his head in defeat.
I turned around,
walking out of the room without another word.
The message had been delivered,
and the threat was neutralized.
As we stepped back into the cold night air,
Gabriel finally smiled.
"Dad would have been proud of you,"
he said softly.
I looked up at the city skyline,
feeling the weight of the past finally lift from my shoulders.
"I know,"
May you like
I replied,
"let's go home to Elena."
