Chapter 6 - The Fall of Damian Vale“Luca,” Damian spat, a desperate, manic smile crossing his face. “Well, look at the hero. You think you can waltz in here and play savior?”
“I’m not playing anything, Damian,” Luca said smoothly, his hands resting casually in his pockets while Mateo and six heavily armed enforcers stepped out behind us, completely surrounding Damian and his men. “Your empire is gone. The SEC has seized your bank accounts, your casinos are under federal receivership, and your guards are currently being disarmed at the perimeter gates. You lost.”
Damian’s eyes darted frantically around the yard. He realized instantly that his men were outnumbered three to one, their escape routes entirely cut off.
In a flash of desperate panic, Damian dropped the iron pipe, lunged forward, grabbed my father by the collar, and pressed a heavy Glock directly against my father’s temple.
“Stay back!” Damian screamed, spittle flying from his lips. “One step closer and I blow his brains out right now! I swear to God, I’ll take the old man with me!”
My father let out a high-pitched, terrified shriek. “Victoria! Save me! Please tell him to let me go!”
I stared at my father.
For twenty years, that man had used me as a bargaining chip, silenced my grief when my mother died, crushed my wrists, and sold me into slavery to save his own skin. He had never once protected me. He had never once loved me.
And yet, standing in the rain with a gun in my hand, I knew I couldn't let Damian execute him in cold blood. Not because my father deserved mercy, but because justice belonged in a federal courtroom, not on a dark Chicago dock.
“Let him go, Damian,” I said steadily, raising my pistol and leveling the barrel directly between Damian’s eyes.
“You won't shoot!” Damian laughed maniacally. “You’re just a baker’s daughter! You don't have the stomach for blood!”
“She might not,” Luca’s voice cut through the air like frozen steel. “But I do.”
Before Damian could process Luca’s words, Luca’s hand flashed out with terrifying speed. A silenced gunshot cracked through the night air.
Bang.
The bullet didn't hit Damian. It struck the concrete cylinder directly beneath Damian’s right foot, sending sparks flying and shattering his balance.
As Damian stumbled sideways, instinctively releasing my father’s collar, Mateo rushed forward like a freight train, slamming Damian into the side of a steel shipping container. The Glock flew from Damian’s hand, clattering across the wet pavement.
Mateo pinned Damian face-first against the metal, clicking steel handcuffs onto his wrists with brutal efficiency.
“It’s over, Vale,” Mateo muttered, shoving him down onto his knees.
My father collapsed onto the ground, sobbing hysterically and clutching his bruised ribs. He looked up at me with pathetic, pleading eyes.
“Victoria... my sweet girl... help me up. Take me home.”
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I looked down at him, my expression completely devoid of warmth. I didn't offer him a hand. I lowered my pistol, engaged the safety, and tucked it back into my holster.
“You’re going home, Father,” I said quietly. “Straight to a federal holding cell. Enjoy the food.”
