Chapter 5 - THE TWIN'S VENGEANCE
The standoff inside the dust-covered office was so still that the sound of rain beginning to patter against the broken balcony glass sounded like gunfire.
Victor immediately aimed his weapon at Daniel’s chest, but two more armed mercenaries stepped onto the balcony behind Daniel, their red laser sights targeting Victor’s forehead and heart.
“Lower the gun, Victor,” Dominic ordered calmly, not taking his eyes off his brother.
Victor hesitated, then slowly lowered his weapon to his side.
Daniel walked forward three steps, his heavy boots crushing glass shards into the Persian rug. He stopped six feet from the desk, looking down at the canvas bag sitting near Mara’s feet.
“Miss Ellis,” Daniel said, a dark, mocking smile touching his lips. “You took a very long time delivering my mother’s papers.”
Dominic’s head snapped toward Mara. “You know him?”
Mara didn't flinch. She stepped sideways, positioning herself equidistant between the two brothers.
“I found Daniel six months ago in Odesa, Dominic,” Mara said, her voice steady and clear. “I brought him the birth certificate and our mother’s journals. I told him he had a brother who knew nothing about Marcus’s crimes.”
“And I told her I didn't care,” Daniel spat, his gray eyes flashing with wild, uncontrolled hatred. “Look at him, Mara! Sitting in Marcus’s chair, wearing Marcus’s tailored suits, drinking Marcus’s fifty-year-old scotch! He lived in the sunlight while I was fed bread and water in a concrete pit in Odesa!”
“I didn't know, Daniel!” Dominic shouted, stepping around the desk, his weapon lowered, his hands open in front of him. “I spent twenty-seven years believing I was an only child! I spent seven years carrying the weight of this family while our father’s secrets rotted beneath this house!”
“You enjoyed the throne!” Daniel roared, raising his revolver until the barrel was pointed directly between Dominic’s eyes. “You took the title! You took the business! You took the name!”
“I took the burden!” Dominic fired back, taking one step closer to the gun. “You think running this empire is a privilege, Daniel? It’s a prison! Marcus left this family eighty million dollars in debt to the Morettis, four federal indictments waiting in the wings, and twenty lieutenants waiting for a chance to put a bullet in my spine! You want this chair? Take it! But don't you dare pretend I chose to put you in that cage!”
Daniel’s hand trembled slightly around the heavy rubber grip of his revolver. The raw, violent certainty in his eyes flickered for a fraction of a second as he looked at Dominic’s face—a face that carried the exact same heavy weariness that he saw in his own reflection every morning.
“He’s lying, Daniel,” one of the mercenaries on the balcony called out in a thick Russian accent. “Shoot him and let’s secure the vault keys before the city police respond.”
Daniel didn't shoot. He stared at Dominic, his breath coming in heavy, ragged hitches.
“He has our mother’s eyes,” Daniel whispered to himself, almost as if he were trying to convince himself not to fire.
“Daniel,” Mara said softly, taking a step toward him. “Your mother spent her last days praying that you wouldn't become Marcus. She spent her final hours begging me to make sure you two didn't destroy each other.”
She reached into her canvas bag and pulled out the child’s pink sweater and the battered teddy bear that Dominic had seen earlier on the kitchen island.
“She kept these under her pillow in the asylum for twenty years, Daniel,” Mara said, holding them out toward him. “She called this bear Barnaby. She said you wouldn't go to sleep without it when you were three years old.”
Daniel looked at the battered brown bear. The rage in his face suddenly collapsed, replaced by a deep, agonizing hollow that made him look small, broken, and impossibly tired.
He lowered the revolver by three inches.
“She... she remembered Barnaby?” Daniel asked, his voice cracking like a child’s.
“She remembered everything, Daniel,” Mara whispered. “She loved both of you.”
Before Daniel could respond, the Russian mercenary on the right drew his tactical knife and lunged toward Daniel’s back.
“He’s going soft!” the Russian screamed in Russian. “Take the room!”
THWIP. THWIP.
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Victor fired two lightning-fast rounds, taking the Russian mercenary down before he could reach Daniel.
Dominic lunged forward, grabbing Daniel by his leather coat, throwing his brother behind the heavy walnut desk just as the second mercenary opened fire with an automatic shotgun, tearing the painting of Marcus Vale to ribbons.
