In the shadowy underworld of organized crime, two individuals stand poised on opposite sides of the law, each concealing their true identity behind a veil of secrets. Frost is a fierce and determined woman driven by a desire for justice and vengeanc...
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FIRE
The tension in the room was palpable, so thick it could be cut with a knife. I sat at the head of the long, dark oak table, the very seat where my father had built his empire, and now I had to question everything that seat represented. To my left, my father sat stoic, his gaze cold and calculating as always. On my right was my brother, silent but fidgeting, the way he always did when things got too intense. My uncle sat beside my father, his eyes fixed on me with a mixture of frustration and anger, like a man trying to control a wild fire before it burned everything down.
The rest of the gang members and high-ranking associates occupied the other chairs around the table, their faces tense, their movements stiff. They knew what was coming; they could sense the storm brewing. But none of them had the guts to speak first.
I leaned forward, my elbows resting on the polished wood surface of the table. My fingers interlaced in front of me, forming a bridge between my thoughts and the words I was about to say. My voice was calm, controlled, but filled with an undeniable edge of fury.
"I want to know every single detail of what happened," I began, my gaze sweeping across the room, landing on my father, my brother, and finally my uncle. "From the moment you meticulously planned to send me to Paris until the very second you captured Frost. Because I don't believe for a second that it's a coincidence you managed to pull this off while I was away." No one spoke at first. The silence was deafening. I could see the tension rippling through the room like an electric current. No one wanted to be the first to speak because they knew what my next words would bring.
Finally, my uncle cleared his throat, his voice dripping with the same authority that had once intimidated me when I was younger. But not anymore. The room was tense, every pair of eyes flicking between my uncle and me. The weight of his words hung in the air like a storm cloud, ready to explode. My uncle leaned back in his chair, looking far too relaxed for someone who had just thrown another bombshell into the mix.
"We got word that Aiden was being attacked," he said calmly, his voice deceptively casual. "So we went to protect him. But by the time we got there, it was too late." I could feel the muscles in my jaw tighten. "Too late?" I asked, my voice dangerously low. My uncle shrugged, as if talking about an unfortunate business deal, not a man's life. "We don't know who murdered him. We were too far behind to stop it." "And Frost?" I asked, my mind racing. I couldn't believe for one second that they'd conveniently 'found' her without some ulterior motive. A slow, calculating smile spread across his face. "On our way back, we found her. It was a plus for us."
A bitter laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. "A plus? You're telling me you just happened to stumble upon the most wanted thief in our world, and you call that a plus?" "That's exactly what I'm saying," my uncle shot back, his voice hardening. "She's been slipping through everytime anyone was close to catching her. When we found her, we seized the opportunity. You should be thanking us, Cruz. We will be having a greatest acquaintance when we deliver her to dark."
