Chapter 10 - The Man In The Trench Coat
The heavy rain seemed to freeze in the air as the man in the trench coat stepped closer, the muzzle of his handgun never wavering from Mark’s chest. His face was weathered and hard, framed by a wide-brimmed hat that kept the rain out of his piercing, calculating eyes.
“Well, well, well,” the man said, his voice smooth and dangerously calm. “It seems mice always try to run back to the same holes when the house starts burning down.”
Mark immediately stepped in front of Clara and Lily, spreading his arms wide to shield them from the line of fire. “Leave them out of this, Victor. They don't know anything about the accounts. This is between you and me.”
Clara gasped softly behind Mark. Victor? The name echoed in her mind, unlocking a terrifying memory from the whispered warnings Mark had given her years ago before they went into hiding.
“Between us?” Victor scoffed, taking another deliberate step forward through the mud. The yellow beam of his flashlight danced across Mark’s pale, rain-soaked face. “You stole three million dollars of syndicate capital, Mark, and then you thought you could just play suburban house-husband in Ohio for five years? Did you really think we wouldn't find you?”
“I gave the money back,” Mark lied, his voice wavering slightly. “It’s in the offshore account. You can have it all back.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Mark,” Victor replied, a cold smile touching the corners of his mouth. He shifted his gaze slightly, locking his eyes onto Clara and little Lily, who was shivering violently behind her father. “Especially when you have so much to lose. Put the girl down, Clara. Step away from him.”
“Don't touch her!” Clara yelled, tightening her grip around Lily so fiercely that the little girl let out a small cry of pain.
Victor raised his free hand and snapped his fingers. Instantly, two more figures emerged from the dense pine trees, flanking Victor on either side. Each of them held heavy-duty zip ties in their hands, their expressions completely devoid of human empathy.
Mark clenched his fists, his eyes darting around the rocky shoreline in a desperate search for an escape route, but the lake was behind them and the armed men blocked the only path back into the woods.
“You want me,” Mark said, taking a slow step toward Victor to draw their attention away from his family. “Take me. Let Clara and Lily walk away right now. They have nothing to do with this.”
Victor tilted his head, considering the offer for a long, agonizing moment. He slowly lowered the barrel of his gun by a fraction of an inch.
“You always were a negotiator, Mark,” Victor said softly. “Fine. The woman and the child can go. But you are coming with us to settle the ledger.”
As Victor’s men stepped forward with the zip ties, ready to grab Mark, the bushes behind the syndicate enforcers rustled violently.
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Before anyone could react, a heavy wooden log came flying out of the dark woods, striking the man on Victor’s right squarely in the side of the head and sending him crashing face-first into the mud.
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