Chapter 9 - The Dead Man Walking
The cinematic tension in the grand ballroom was absolutely suffocating.
The crowd of elite criminals parted in sheer, unadulterated panic as Dominic Rossi walked slowly down the center aisle. He wore a flawless, tailored black suit. He didn't look like a ghost. He looked like an apocalyptic god of war.
Following closely behind him were forty heavily armed, fiercely loyal syndicate enforcers, their weapons drawn and trained directly on Vincent’s corrupt guards.
Vincent physically staggered backward on the stage, the champagne glass slipping from his trembling hand and shattering violently across the marble floor.
"Dominic..." Vincent gasped, his face turning the color of wet ash.
Chloe shrieked, frantically backing away from Vincent, her eyes wide with horrifying realization.
Dominic didn't yell. The terrifying realism of his absolute, unbreakable calm paralyzed the entire room. He walked directly up the stairs onto the stage, stopping two feet in front of his brother.
"You look surprised, Vincent," Dominic whispered, his voice projecting clearly through the silent ballroom. "Did you really think a cheap assassin could take my throne?"
Vincent panicked. Driven by pure, animalistic desperation, he reached inside his grey suit for his weapon.
He was far too slow.
With blinding, lethal speed, Dominic’s heavily tattooed hand shot out, clamping directly onto Vincent’s throat. Dominic violently slammed his traitorous brother backward onto the polished wooden stage, pinning him effortlessly.
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"I heard everything you said in my bedroom," Dominic growled softly, completely deaf to Vincent's pathetic, choking apologies.
👉 The traitor was completely broken, leaving Dominic to issue the final, devastating judgment on his treacherous family.
