Chapter 7 - The Retaliation
Marin hesitated for only a fraction of a second. The card was on the table. "A black Kingston encrypted thumb drive. Heavy casing. Rossi said something about a wedding opening a vault."
Damian’s jaw ticked slightly, the only sign of anger on his otherwise carved face. "My father’s offshore ledger. The Vance family has been bleeding my shipping routes dry for two quarters. They think a marriage will cement their hold before they slip arsenic into my nightcap."
He reached into his drawer and pulled out a checkbook. With a smooth stroke of a gold fountain pen, he wrote an amount, ripped the paper out, and slid it across the mahogany surface.
Marin looked down. Written on the check, in sharp, decisive ink, was the sum of **$150,000**.
Her breath caught in her throat. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, hot and genuine. "What... what is this?"
"Posie’s surgery is paid in full. The remaining balance will cover her recovery and your living expenses for two years," Damian said evenly.
"What do you want from me?" Marin whispered, terrified of the price tag attached to such a miracle.
"I need eyes inside this house that Genevieve does not suspect," Damian replied, standing up. He walked around the desk, stopping just inches from her chair. He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. "Genevieve believes you are a frightened mouse. Tomorrow, she will try to destroy you to ensure you keep your mouth shut. She will come after what you love."
As if summoned by his words, Marin’s cheap burner phone vibrated violently against her thigh.
Trembling, she pulled it out. It was a blocked number. She answered, putting it to her ear.
*"Miss Ross?"* a raspy, unfamiliar voice sneered through the speaker. *"Your little sister looks very peaceful sleeping in Room 412. It would be a terrible shame if someone accidentally disconnected that oxygen line while the nurses are on break."*
A cold wave of horror crashed over Marin. She stood up instantly, her chair screeching against the hardwood floor. "Who is this?! Don't touch her! Don't you dare touch her!"
Damian moved before she could take another breath. In a flash, he plucked the phone from her hand and pressed it to his ear.
May you like
"Rossi," Damian said, his voice dropping into a register so dark it sent chills down Marin’s spine. "If anyone affiliated with the Vance family or your syndicate sets foot on the fourth floor of St. Jude’s, I will butcher your brothers in their beds and feed your father to the harbor fish. You have five minutes to run."
Damian hung up the phone and smashed it against the edge of the desk, shattering the plastic casing into pieces.
