Her Father Sold Her to the Deaf Mafia Boss for $50 — Until She Pulled a Blinking Red Tracker From His Ear

The gunfire outside temporarily paused.

Heavy, tactical boots crunched across the ruined marble floor of the entrance hall.

Vincent pulled me behind the massive mahogany dining table, his weapon raised, his eyes scanning the darkness. Since he couldn't hear the footsteps, he relied entirely on the vibrations in the floorboards.

"Vincent! Come out, little brother!"

The voice echoing through the dark mansion made my blood turn to absolute, freezing ice.

It was Silas Moretti. Vincent’s older brother, and the supposedly loyal underboss of the Chicago syndicate.

"You really thought you could hide from me?" Silas laughed cruelly, stepping into the dining room flanked by six heavily armed mercenaries. "I've been in your head for ten years, Vincent. Literally."

I looked at Vincent. He couldn't hear his brother's confession, but he saw the tactical flashlights sweeping the room.

Silas kicked a broken chair out of his way. "You were always the favorite, Vincent. The chosen heir. So, when we were teenagers, I made sure you took a bad fall. And while you were unconscious in the private hospital, I paid the surgeon to permanently destroy your eardrums and implant the tracker."

My breath hitched in sheer horror. Silas had intentionally deafened his own brother to make him weak, then used the bug to secretly hijack the cartel's operations while pretending to be a loyal servant.