Chapter 8 - The Financial Execution
"Dante, please!" Marcus wept, completely abandoning his arrogant, tough-guy persona. "I didn't want to do it! The Petrov cartel forced me! I owe them eight million in gambling debts! They threatened my life!"
Dante kept his forearm pressed firmly against the traitor's windpipe.
"You don't have a life," Dante replied with freezing, absolute contempt. "You have a penthouse and a sports car. And you sold my blood to keep them."
Dante signaled to his elite, loyal security guards, who had silently surrounded the pillar, their weapons drawn and trained directly on the gasping underboss.
"I'll leave the city! I'll never come back! Just let me walk away!" Marcus sobbed, tears of pure, humiliating panic streaming down his face in front of the city's elite.
"You're not walking anywhere," Dante stated coldly. He reached into Marcus's pocket and pulled out the traitor's smartphone, tossing it to his lead hacker. "While you were sweating across the room, my men already seized your offshore accounts. We liquidated your assets. The eight million dollars you owed the Petrov cartel is completely gone."
Marcus’s eyes widened in sheer, suffocating horror as he gasped for air. "No... without the money, they'll kill me..."
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"Exactly," Dante replied smoothly. "You failed the assassination, and you lost their money. You are completely useless to them now."
👉 Dante released his grip on the traitor's throat, but the punishment he ordered next would seal Marcus's doom.
