Chapter 8 - The Confrontation
I placed my polished leather shoe heavily onto Victor's ankle, pinning him to the concrete.
He screamed in pain and rolled over, pointing his weapon blindly into the smoke.
When the smoke cleared and he saw my face, the gun fell from his trembling fingers.
"Alessandro," he whispered, his eyes wide with supernatural terror.
"You... you died."
"I have survived warehouse fires, street ambushes, and bullets," I said coldly.
"Did you really think a cheap pill would be the end of me, Victor?"
Victor scrambled backward, pressing his spine against the cold brick wall.
"It was the Romanos!" he pleaded pathetically, tears mixing with the dirt on his face.
"They threatened my family, Alessandro, I had no choice!"
I raised my revolver, aiming it directly at the center of his forehead.
"You do not have a family, Victor," I reminded him quietly.
"You traded your loyalty for the promise of a throne you were never strong enough to hold."
"A five-year-old girl with a crayon saw through your grand, brilliant deception."
Victor’s mouth opened and closed silently, realizing the absolute humiliation of his defeat.
He had spent months planning the perfect assassination.
And it had been entirely dismantled by a child who noticed the sound of plastic.
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I did not give him the chance to speak another word.
I pulled the trigger, and the echo of the gunshot finalized the end of his betrayal.
