THE AUSTIN SYNDICATE'S VOW

At exactly 2:00 AM, Silas executed the hack.

Sitting in the command van a mile from the Reyes estate, I listened to the radio chatter intercept. The panic inside the cartel stronghold was immediate. Hector Reyes’s offshore accounts vanished. The cryptocurrency wallets were drained. Millions of dollars gone in sixty seconds.

Ten minutes later, the sicarios guarding the perimeter began to realize they weren't getting paid. The ironclad loyalty of mercenaries is incredibly fragile when the money disappears.

“Move in,” I ordered over the comms.

My tactical teams, dressed in black, infiltrated the grounds. It wasn't a firefight; it was a slaughter. The demoralized and confused cartel guards were overwhelmed by our coordinated assault. We breached the main mansion within twelve minutes.

I kicked down the heavy mahogany doors of Reyes’s private office.

Hector Reyes was scrambling to load a golden Desert Eagle, but Dante shot the gun out of his hand, shattering his wrist. Reyes screamed, dropping to his knees.

Marcus Vance, the slick lawyer, was cowering under a desk.

And Rebecca.

She was standing by the safe, her hands full of banded cash and passports. When she saw me step through the smoke and debris, she froze. The color drained completely from her face.

“Thomas,” she gasped, dropping the money. “Please. Hector made me do it. He threatened me!”

I ignored her, walking slowly across the room. I aimed my rifle at Vance, who was crying beneath the desk.

“Get out,” I told Vance. “Run to the police. Tell them you witnessed Hector Reyes get assassinated by a rival cartel. If you ever mention the Moretti name again, I’ll find you.”

Vance scrambled out from under the desk and ran out the door without looking back.

I looked down at Hector Reyes. He was clutching his bleeding wrist, glaring at me with pure hatred.

“You think you won, Moretti?” Reyes spat blood onto the expensive rug. “My brothers in Mexico will hunt you down.”

“Let them come,” I said, and fired a single round into his chest.

Reyes collapsed, dead.

Rebecca shrieked, backing into the wall, her hands raised defensively. “Thomas! No! I’m family! I loved Ethan!”

I slung the rifle over my shoulder and drew my Glock. I walked up to her, grabbing her by the throat and slamming her against the wall. She gagged, her manicured nails clawing uselessly at my leather gloves.

“You murdered my brother,” I whispered, staring into her terrified, empty eyes. “You tortured a six-year-old boy. You locked them in a basement like animals so you could steal their inheritance.”

“I’m sorry!” she choked out. “I’ll give it all back! I’ll sign over custody!”

“You’re going to do a lot more than that,” I released her neck. She dropped to the floor, gasping for air.

“Dante,” I called out. “Bring the poison.”

Dante walked in, holding the small glass vial we had found in Rebecca’s safe house—the exact cardiac-arrest-inducing toxin she had used on my brother.

Rebecca saw the vial and began to scream hysterically. “No! No, please! I’ll go to prison! I’ll confess! You can't do this!”

“I am not going to kill you, Rebecca,” I crouched down to her eye level. “But you are going to drink exactly half of this vial. It won't stop your heart. But it will permanently damage your nervous system. You will lose the ability to walk. To talk clearly. To feed yourself. You will be locked in your own body, just like you locked those kids in the basement.”

“You’re a monster!” she shrieked.