Chapter 5 - The Uncle’s EntranceBefore I could step out of the cage, the heavy steel gym doors rattled violently from the outside.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The sound of heavy iron tools hammering against the lock echoed through the building. A few seconds later, with a screech of tearing metal, the lock snapped, and the heavy doors were thrown wide open.
Six men in dark, tailored suits stepped into the gym, holding automatic handguns.
Stepping into the center of the group was an older man in his late fifties, wearing a charcoal wool coat, carrying a gold-topped walking cane. His dark hair was slicked back, his eyes sharp, cold, and calculating.
Frank Moretti. The criminal boss Dustin had used to terrorize my daughter.
Frank stepped into the gym, his polished leather shoes crunching over the dust. His eyes swept across the room—taking in the three heavyweight fighters lying broken on the floor, Ray weeping near the chair, and his nephew, Dustin, bleeding and wheezing inside the cage.
Frank's expression didn't change. He didn't shout. He simply raised his gold-topped cane, gesturing for his men to lower their weapons.
"Well, well," Frank said, his deep, gravelly voice carrying across the quiet gym. "I received a phone call from one of the junior trainers who escaped out the back window. He told me a crazy old man was slaughtering my nephew's fight team."
Frank walked slowly toward the cage, his armed guards surrounding the perimeter of the mat, their guns pointed directly at my chest.
Frank stopped outside the chain-link fence, looking at Dustin lying broken on the canvas, then turned his gaze to me.
"You've got a lot of nerve coming into my neighborhood, old man," Frank said softly. "Do you have any idea who I am?"
I stepped out of the cage, completely ignoring the six handguns pointed at my chest, walking straight toward the mob boss until I was standing three feet away from him.
"You're Frank Moretti," I replied, my voice completely devoid of fear. "You run a racketeering and extortion syndicate out of the docks. And your nephew used your name to put my daughter in the intensive care unit tonight."
Frank narrowed his dark eyes, studying my face, my posture, and the absolute, unshakeable aura of lethality radiating from my frame.
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"Your daughter?" Frank asked, a subtle shift occurring in his posture. "Marcy?"
"Yes," I answered cleanly. "And your nephew told her that if she left him, your people would execute her mother and me."
