Chapter 7 - The Enforcer's Vengeance
"Well, well, well," a harsh, gravelly voice echoed through the bookstore.
The enforcer—a scarred, heavy-set man named Viktor—smirked coldly beneath his mask as he scanned the room. His eyes lingered on Lily for a fraction of a second before locking onto Marcus with venomous hatred.
"Old man Arthur may be gone, but some bills never expire," Viktor sneered, keeping the gun steady. "You really thought you could dig up twenty-year-old adoption files and nobody would notice, Marcus? The Vance family empire doesn't tolerate loose ends. And neither do the investors who financed this little cover-up from the very beginning."
Elena screamed, throwing herself instinctively in front of Lily to shield her daughter’s body. "No! Don't touch her!"
"Step aside, Elena," Viktor warned, his finger tightening slightly on the trigger. "Or I'll turn this little reunion into a tragedy twice over."
Marcus didn't flinch. Despite the firearm pointed directly at his heart, a cold, lethal fury settled over his features. The vulnerability he had displayed moments ago vanished, replaced by the terrifying apex predator who had crushed corporate enemies across continents.
"You should have stayed in Marseille, Viktor," Marcus said, his voice dropping into a chilling, deadpan whisper. "You broke out of a maximum-security federal facility using a forged medical transport slip. My security detail was tracking your satellite signal the second you crossed the Massachusetts state line."
Viktor’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "What?"
*Clack.*
The distinct, unmistakable sound of a shotgun safety clicking off echoed from the doorway behind the intruders.
Three elite federal marshals, accompanied by Bronson and two Vance Global tactical operatives, swarmed into the bookstore from the front and side exits, their assault rifles instantly trained on Viktor and his two accomplices.
"Drop the weapon! Drop it now!" a federal marshal roared, stepping forward.
Viktor panicked. He swung his pistol toward Lily, desperate to secure a human shield. "Back off or I'll—"
*Bang.*
A single, perfectly placed shot from Bronson’s sidearm shattered the wooden display rack inches from Viktor’s head, while two marshals lunged forward, tackling the enforcer to the floor in a flurry of flying snow and splintered wood.
The accomplices threw their hands up instantly, dropping their weapons onto the floorboards as they were swarmed and zip-tied.
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Within ten seconds, the threat was neutralized. Viktor was pinned facedown to the snowy welcome mat, spitting blood and curses into the floor.
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