Chapter 3 - The Devil’s Ransom
The burner phone on Walter’s desk vibrated. The jarring sound made the heavily armed men in the room freeze. Bennett picked it up.
"Hello, Bennett." Victor Rossi’s voice slithered through the receiver, dripping with arrogant amusement. "I hear you found a stray cat on your property."
"If you touch a single hair on her head, Victor, I will dismantle you piece by piece," Bennett said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
"Oh, she’s perfectly safe. For now," Rossi chuckled. "It’s funny, isn't it? Five years ago, I didn't set that bomb. She did. She faked her death to get away from you, Bennett. To keep her precious daughter away from a monster. And you believed it."
The words felt like a knife twisting in Bennett's gut. She ran.
"But now, she’s my leverage," Rossi continued. "I want the docks back. I want the East Side territory. And I want fifty million in untraceable bonds. You have two hours. Come to the abandoned shipyard on Pier 40. Alone. Or I send your dead wife back to you—for real this time."
The line went dead.
Bennett looked at the monitors. In the guest bedroom, little Mia was fast asleep on a king-sized bed, guarded by four of Bennett’s deadliest men. She was his blood. He felt it in his bones.
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"Boss?" Walter asked, locking a fresh magazine into his rifle. "Do we give him the docks?"
"We give him nothing," Bennett said, pulling his tactical vest tight. "We give him hell."
