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

Vincent walked over to Silas, who was weeping pathetically in the steel chair.

Vincent didn't need to hear the apologies. He pulled a heavy, encrypted tablet from his tactical vest and showed the screen to his brother.

While we were driving to the safehouse, Vincent’s loyal cyber-team had accessed Silas’s hidden servers. They had completely drained Silas’s offshore accounts, transferring the millions directly back into the syndicate.

Silas wasn't just bleeding; he was entirely, permanently bankrupt.

Vincent picked up the porcelain bowl we had brought from the mansion. Inside was the tiny, blinking black tracker I had pulled from his ear.

Vincent grabbed Silas’s jaw, forcing his mouth open.

With cold, absolute brutality, Vincent shoved the blinking tracker deep down Silas’s throat and forced him to swallow it.

Now the Russians know exactly where you are, Vincent typed on his phone, showing it to Silas’s terrified face. And they know you lost their money.

Vincent didn't shoot his brother. He simply untied him, dragged him out of the safehouse, and threw him onto the dark, rain-soaked street, leaving him completely defenseless with a live cartel tracker in his stomach.

Silas screamed as we drove away, his toxic existence permanently swallowed into violent ruin.