Chapter 8 - The Reckoning
Alexander didn't look human in that moment. He looked like an angel of death carved from stone.
In his right hand was a customized matte-black Kimber .45. Behind him, Marco and six heavily armed Moretti operatives moved through the alley with terrifying military efficiency. Within ten seconds, Derek’s hired thugs were on the ground, disarmed and neutralized.
Derek scrambled backward on his hands and knees, holding his bleeding nose, waving his revolver wildly.
“Stay back!” Derek shrieked. “Stay the hell back, Moretti! I’ll shoot her! I swear I’ll shoot her!”
Alexander didn't stop walking. He didn't even raise his weapon. He simply marched toward Derek, his eyes locked on him like laser sights.
“Shoot me, Derek,” Alexander said, his voice flat, chillingly devoid of emotion. “Do it. Because if you miss, your death will take three days.”
Derek pulled the trigger in pure terror.
*CLICK.*
The chamber was empty. In his panic during the collision, the magazine had unseated.
Derek looked down at the useless gun in horror.
Alexander closed the distance in a single stride. His boot caught Derek in the ribs, sending him flying across the alley into a heap of wet trash bags. Derek screamed as his ribs cracked.
Alexander walked over, placing his heavy boot directly onto Derek’s chest, pressing down until Derek could barely wheeze. Alexander raised the barrel of the Kimber, centering it precisely between Derek’s terrified eyes.
“Alexander, wait!”
Emily’s voice pierced the chaos.
Alexander paused. The muscles in his neck were cords of steel. He didn't take the gun off Derek’s forehead, but he looked over at her.
Emily stood up, wiping blood and dirt from her cheek. Her knees were bruised, her hair tangled, but her eyes were burning with complete, unshakeable power.
She walked over and stood beside Alexander.
She looked down at Derek Carter—the man who had made her believe she was worthless, unlovable, and weak. He was crying, blubbering like a child, begging for his life in the mud.
“Don’t kill him,” Emily said quietly.
Alexander frowned. “Emily, he tried to take you.”
“I know,” Emily said, her voice clear and resonant. “Death is too easy for him. Let him live in the cage he built for himself. Let him watch his name be erased, his fortune taken, and his family name dragged through federal court every single day for the rest of his miserable life.”
Alexander stared at Emily. The lethal darkness in his eyes slowly receded, replaced by an overwhelming, profound respect.
He slowly lowered the gun.
“Marco,” Alexander ordered without looking away from Emily. “Call the FBI Director. Tell him Derek Carter just violated his federal bail with attempted murder, aggravated kidnapping, and firearm offenses. Make sure he never sees the light of day again.”
“Understood, boss,” Marco said, dragging Derek away by his collar. Derek’s frantic sobs faded into the Chicago night.
Alexander reached out, pulling Emily against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, burying his face in her hair as she buried her face in his neck.
“Are you hurt?” he whispered, his hands trembling slightly against her back—the first sign of vulnerability she had ever seen from him.
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“No,” Emily whispered, hugging him back with all her heart. “I’m finally free.”
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