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Chapter 840:
“Sir,” the assistant interrupted, his voice unsteady. “Alycia is currently on the FBI’s watch list due to the financial fraud case. If we move on her with lethal force, the federal government comes down on the Compton Group p>
Cole unholstered the Glock from his hip. He racked the slide with a sharp metallic clack, then reached forward and rested the cold barrel lightly against the assistant’s shoulder.
“In this city, the Compton Group’s will is the only rule that matters,” Cole said, his eyes dead. “Anyone who tries to stand between me and Alycia Beasley will be considered collateral damage p>
The assistant closed his mouth. He pressed his earpiece and relayed the coordinates to the convoy.
The fleet of black armored SUVs peeled from the curb and tore through the snowy Manhattan night, heading straight for the Upper East Side like a pack of wolves with a scent.
The armored convoy did not head straight to the Upper East Side. Cole ordered a detour. They pulled up to the abandoned Brooklyn pier — back to the warehouse where Crawford had left the two broken kidnappers.
𝘑𝘰𝗶𝗻 𝘵hо𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗇𝗱𝘀 о𝖿 𝘧𝖺nѕ 𝘰n
The heavy metal doors rolled open. The air inside smelled of rust, seawater, and fresh blood.
The two mercenaries were hanging upside down from a steel gantry crane, suspended by Cole’s security team. Cole stepped out of the SUV, his heavy combat boots splashing through a puddle of blood on the concrete floor. He walked straight to the leader of the hit squad — a heavyset man with a scarred face — grabbed a fistful of his hair, and yanked his head back.
The hitman spat blood onto Cole’s boots. “Dark web rules, rich boy,” he grunted, his teeth stained red. “I don’t talk p>
Cole said nothing. He pulled out his phone and held the screen directly in front of the man’s face.
It showed a live security feed: a modest house in Queens. A woman in the kitchen. Two young children watching television in the living room. The red dot of a sniper’s laser rested on the back of the woman’s head.
The hitman’s eyes bulged. His chest heaved. The psychological wall he had built collapsed in an instant.
“No! Stop! Please!” he screamed, thrashing against the ropes. “It was a woman — Alycia Beasley! She wired five million in Bitcoin to my broker! She wanted the Erickson woman dead p>
Cole drew a tactical knife from his belt and pressed the flat of the cold blade against the hitman’s carotid artery.
“I’m going to offer you a contract,” Cole whispered. “You are going to take me to Alycia. And everything she paid you to do to June, you are going to do to her. Exactly as ordered p>
The hitman felt the blade nick skin. He looked at the phone screen, then at Cole’s dead eyes. He nodded, his entire body shaking. He was no longer a professional killer. He was a tool.
Cole gestured. His men cut the ropes and let the hitman drop to the floor. They threw him a basic trauma kit for his broken legs, then dragged him into the back of the armored transport.
Message from Noa: Have a great Tuesday dear readers. God loves you and Noa wishes you all the best. /