Chapter 8 - The Lethal Strike
James didn't even get the chance to fully depress the trigger.
With blinding, explosive cinematic speed, Mr. Romano moved. He didn't try to draw his own weapon. He lunged forward, closing the ten-foot gap between them in a fraction of a second.
Mr. Romano’s massive, tattooed hand violently swatted the suppressed pistol upward just as the weapon fired. The bullet shattered the plaster ceiling, raining white dust down onto the dark kitchen island.
Before James could pull the gun back down, Mr. Romano drove his heavy fist directly into the traitor’s throat with devastating, bone-crushing force.
James gagged, his eyes rolling back as his airway was instantly crushed. The gun clattered uselessly onto the marble floor.
Mr. Romano didn't stop. The six months of agonizing grief, the sleepless nights, the sound of his daughters crying in silence—all of it erupted in a violent, uncontrollable wave of pure vengeance. He grabbed James by the lapels of his grey suit, violently lifting the massive enforcer off his feet, and slammed him backward onto the heavy, flour-covered kitchen island.
The mixing bowl shattered against the ground.
Mr. Romano pressed his forearm against James's shattered throat, completely pinning the traitor to the dark countertop. The mafia boss pulled his concealed weapon from his waistband and pressed the cold steel barrel directly between James’s terrified, gasping eyes.
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"It's not business anymore, James," Mr. Romano hissed, his voice a demonic, terrifying promise.
👉 The traitor was utterly defeated, and the king of the underworld was about to pass his final, brutal judgment.
