Chapter 16
Marcus stared at the massacre surrounding him, the grim realization settling in that he had vastly underestimated the devil he had betrayed. He let his empty pistol slip from his trembling fingers, the weapon clattering loudly against the blood-stained marble. He slumped against a towering stone pillar, a twisted, blood-flecked smile forming on his pale face.
"You’re good, Ryan," Marcus coughed, spitting a glob of blood onto the pristine floor. "You were always the best of us. But killing me doesn't fix anything. The coordinates carved into that little girl’s back... 41.8781° N, 87.6298° W. The Falcones are waiting for you. They have an army. You can't kill them all."
Ryan walked forward slowly, the rhythmic click of his leather shoes echoing like a ticking clock in the silent hall. He didn't lower the gun from the center of Marcus’s forehead. "What were Maria’s last words?" Ryan asked, his voice devoid of any human emotion.
Marcus laughed, a pathetic, wheezing sound. "She begged me. She fell to her knees and swore that you would come to save her. I told her you didn't even know the kid existed. Then I put a bullet in her chest. It was quick."
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Ryan’s eyes darkened, the agonizing grief instantly transmuting into a volcanic, merciless rage. He grabbed Marcus by his blood-soaked collar, lifting the heavy man off his feet and slamming him brutally against the pillar, crushing his windpipe. "I never forgive those who touch my family. The Falcone syndicate will burn to ashes. But you... you are going to hell first to reserve their seats."
"Do it," Marcus choked out, a final, pathetic act of defiance. Ryan shoved the traitor to the floor. As Marcus weakly lifted his head, a single, deafening gunshot rang out. The bullet found its mark, extinguishing the life of the man who had orchestrated the nightmare. The battle for the mansion was over, but Ryan knew the true war was only just beginning.
