Chapter 3 - SHADOWS OF THE SYNDICATE
The convoy of black, armored SUVs tore through the city, ignoring traffic lights and speed limits. Inside the leather-scented cabin, Nathaniel sat in tense silence, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought it might shatter.
"She told me you were dead," he finally murmured, almost to himself, looking out the tinted window at the blurring city skyline.
"My father?" I asked softly, clutching my patched backpack to my chest.
He finally looked at me, a complex mixture of rage and profound sorrow softening his harsh features. "I am your father, Ruby. And for twelve years, I believed the rival Moretti family had killed your mother in the crossfire of our war. I burned half their syndicate to the ground in retaliation. To know she was hiding... living in poverty..."
The revelation made my head spin. The richest, most ruthless man in America was my father. The man whose name was whispered in both corporate boardrooms and dark alleyways.
When we arrived at our dilapidated apartment building, it was too late. The door to our unit was kicked in. The landlord wasn't there to enforce the eviction—instead, three men in dark leather jackets were tearing our meager belongings apart.
Before I could scream, Nathaniel’s men flooded the hallway. The violence was swift, precise, and brutally efficient. In less than a minute, the intruders were disarmed and on their knees. Marcus held a gun to the temple of the leader.
May you like
"Where is she?" Nathaniel roared, grabbing the man by the throat and lifting him inches off the floor.
"The Morettis," the man choked out, blood spilling from his lip. "They found out she was alive. They took her to the docks."
