Heart Of the Underworld

Chapter 15.

Author's P.O.V

Victor settled into the seat next to Alex, his presence commanding the room. The tension was thick, palpable, the kind that could only arise when power and danger loomed heavy in the air. Everyone else in the grand ballroom stood in silence, waiting for something-though they weren't sure what.

The old man, nervously standing near the edge of the lounge, watched the subtle exchange between Alex and Victor with growing unease. He had served powerful men before, ruthless and unpredictable, but something about Victor Romano unnerved him even more. There was a darkness in Victor's gaze, an edge that made the old man's skin crawl. Still, the old man let his pride override his caution.

Victor gave his final command, his eyes already set on the next move. He stood to leave, but the old man, in a fatal lapse of judgment, spoke out.

"Well, you could've handled this sooner if you weren't so busy babysitting that little girl," the old man muttered under his breath, his voice laced with derision. "What's she to you anyway? A distraction, at best."

Victor stopped in his tracks. The entire room seemed to tense at once, the air suddenly feeling heavy. Alex, who had been smirking just moments ago, froze, his eyes darting toward the old man in disbelief.

Victor turned around slowly, a chilling calmness in his eyes. "What did you just say?"

The old man, not yet sensing the gravity of his words, took a step forward. "I'm just saying, maybe if you weren't so caught up with that girl, this whole mess with Mark David wouldn't have escalated."

Alex winced at the old man's arrogance, knowing the inevitable was coming, but the old man continued. "She's a liability, Victor. You should focus on the real threats, not-"

Bang.

The gunshot rang through the ballroom, cutting off the old man's sentence. No one had seen Victor move-his hand had slipped into his coat, and now a silenced pistol was pointed directly at the old man.

The old man's face went white as he glanced down at his side, his hand slowly reaching up to touch the small, dark spot spreading on his shirt-a wound so clean, so precise, that it took him a moment to realize what had happened.

For a brief moment, the old man looked up, confused, and then his knees buckled. He crumbled to the ground, gasping, clutching his side as blood began to seep through his fingers. The reality of his fate dawned on him, but too late.

The entire room stood in stunned silence, watching as the old man writhed on the ground, his breaths coming in desperate, ragged gasps. Victor didn't flinch. He holstered his gun, walking slowly toward the man, his expression devoid of any emotion.

"She's not a liability," Victor said coldly, standing over the old man as the life drained from his body. "And no one speaks about her like that."

The old man's eyes widened in realization, but his words were trapped in his throat, gurgling as blood filled his mouth. His hands clawed at the floor in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding, but within moments, his body stilled. The entire ballroom watched, frozen in place, as the old man's last breath rattled out.

Victor stared down at the body, his jaw tight. Without a word, he turned away, not sparing the corpse a second glance as he walked back toward Alex.

Alex, who had been watching the scene with a detached kind of interest, gave a low whistle. "That was... dramatic, even for you," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Victor shrugged, his expression impassive. "He crossed a line."

Alex smirked, impressed but unsurprised by Victor's cold efficiency. "Clearly."