Chapter 7 - The Sweating Traitor
Marcus was shoved to a halt directly in front of the gift table.
His entire body was shaking uncontrollably. He stared down at the black lacquered box and the red silk ribbon as if it were a venomous snake. The cinematic tension was absolutely paralyzing.
Dante stepped up right beside him, completely ignoring the danger. He reached out and clamped his massive, heavily tattooed hand down onto Marcus’s shoulder with bone-crushing force.
"Open it, Marcus," Dante whispered directly into the traitor's ear, ensuring the surrounding crowd couldn't hear the execution.
"Dante, please," Marcus sobbed quietly, tears of pure, humiliating panic welling in his eyes. "I didn't want to do it! The Petrov cartel forced me! I owe them three million in gambling debts! They threatened my family!"
"You don't have a family," Dante replied with freezing, absolute contempt. "You have a penthouse and a sports car. And you sold my life to keep them."
Marcus panicked. Driven by pure, animalistic desperation, he violently jerked his shoulder away from Dante's grip and desperately reached into his jacket for his firearm.
He never even touched the metal.
With blinding, lethal speed, Dante’s left hand shot out, gripping Marcus’s wrist and twisting it backward with a sickening, audible snap. Marcus let out a muffled, agonizing gasp as his weapon clattered uselessly onto the white tablecloth.
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Dante didn't even blink. He kicked the gun under the table and pinned the weeping traitor against the edge of the wood.
👉 Marcus was entirely disarmed and broken, leaving Dante to deliver the final, crushing judgment on his ruined life.
