Chapter 8 - The Hidden Deed
Vince puffed out his chest, trying to hide his trembling hands. “Listen to me, you old fool! I have the legal power of attorney! I have the deed to this land! This house is mine! Boys, get them out of here!”
Vince signaled to his five thugs. But the thugs took one look at the fifty massive bikers pulling heavy steel chains and crowbars off their motorcycles, and they immediately raised their hands, backing away into the yard. They weren't getting paid enough to die.
“You cowards!” Vince shrieked, completely abandoned.
Mack walked straight up the wooden stairs of the deck. Vince tried to punch him, but Mack casually caught Vince’s wrist in mid-air and twisted it so hard a sickening pop echoed through the yard.
Vince screamed in agony, falling to his knees.
Mack reached inside his leather vest and pulled out a thick, official-looking document bound in a waterproof plastic sleeve. He slapped it violently against Vince’s chest.
“You forged a fake deed, Vince,” Mack said coldly. “But Walter knew you were a snake. That’s why, before he got too sick, he transferred the true, irrevocable trust of this estate, and every single penny in his accounts, into a hidden vault at the Iron Mill. And he made me the executor.”
Vince stared at the document in absolute horror. The paperwork was ironclad. Walter had outsmarted him from his deathbed.
“This proves you committed felony fraud,” Mack stated, his voice ringing with pure justice. “You stole from a dying man. You beat a defenseless woman. And you made a nine-year-old boy starve on the street.”
May you like
Mack looked down at Vince with eyes full of lethal disgust. “You are the lowest form of trash on this earth. And now, you’re going to pay for what you did.”
👉 What brutal, satisfying punishment will the bikers unleash before the cops arrive?
