Chapter 8 - OUT OF THE CHAIR
I moved. It was a lumbering, agonizing walk, each step feeling like I was walking on shattered glass, but I was moving forward. The gunfire around me seemed to fade into a dull roar. All I saw was Julian, raising his gun to shoot a child who dared to fight back.
I closed the distance before Julian even realized I was no longer on the floor.
I swung the steel pipe with brutal force, striking Julian's gun hand. The weapon shattered, bones snapping loudly. Julian shrieked in pain, dropping Sofia.
He spun around, his eyes wide with absolute, primal terror as he looked up at me. I was a head taller than him, standing on my own two feet.
"Alejandro... how..." he choked out, stumbling backward.
"You underestimated the power of belief," I snarled, stepping forward. I grabbed him by the throat with one hand, lifting him slightly onto his toes. "And you underestimated me."
Across the warehouse, Vargas had cornered El Alacrán, disarming him with a brutal strike to the knee. The firefight was over. My private army had decimated the syndicate's forces without a single casualty on our side.
I looked down at Julian, his face turning purple in my grip. I could end him. I could snap his neck and bury him under the empire he tried to steal. But I felt a small, warm hand wrap around my leg.
I looked down. Sofia was hugging my leg, burying her face in my trousers.
"Don't," she whispered. "He's not worth it."
May you like
I released my grip. Julian collapsed to the floor, coughing and sobbing.
"Vargas," I ordered, my voice steady, though my legs were trembling violently. "Call the police. Give them everything we have on Julian's accounts and El Alacrán's operation."
