Chapter 8 - The Monster in the Cell

The solitary confinement wing of the federal penitentiary was a damp, echoing tomb. Silas walked down the concrete corridor, the heavy steel doors sliding open automatically via the warden’s remote override. There were no guards. The cameras were dark.
At the end of the hall, cell C-14 stood open. Inside, sitting cross-legged on a metal cot, was Marcus Thorne. The former king of the Boston underworld looked older, his hair completely white, but his eyes held the same sharp, malicious cruelty Silas remembered from his childhood.
"Silas," Marcus smiled, a slow, predatory grin. "I heard you had a busy day. Snatched your brother right off the tarmac. I taught you to be efficient, but that was impressive even for you."
Silas stepped into the cell. He didn't yell. He didn't raise his voice. He simply stared at the man who had ordered the murder of the only light in his dark world.
"Why?" Silas asked softly.
Marcus chuckled, standing up. "She was making you weak, Silas. You were talking about going legitimate. Handing the reigns to Julian so you could play house in the suburbs. The Thorne legacy is built on blood and fear, not charity galas and diaper changes. Clara was an infection. I simply amputated her."
"She was my wife."
"She was a liability!" Marcus spat, stepping closer. "She found the ledgers. She knew Julian and I were siphoning funds to build a private army to take back the syndicate when I got out. If she told you, you would have killed Julian. I chose my blood over your bed-warmer."
Silas’s expression remained perfectly still, a mask of carved marble. "You failed, old man. Clara had a daughter. My daughter is sleeping safely in my manor. And Julian is currently bleeding on my basement floor."
Marcus’s smile faded. A flash of genuine panic crossed his aged eyes. "The baby survived?"
"Yes," Silas said, stepping right into his father’s space. "Which means your bloodline continues. Just not yours. You are officially obsolete."
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Silas reached into his coat, producing a small, unmarked syringe. "The warden owes me. He's going to rule this a heart attack."
Marcus lunged, but Silas was faster, burying the needle deep into his father's neck and pressing the plunger, ending the reign of the old king forever.