Chapter 12
1757 Words
The meeting is swift and decisive. Mickey’s inner circle—Axel, Vince, and Carmen—are tasked with locking down the most vulnerable parts of his empire. Loyalty is tested, alliances reinforced. But the tension in the air is palpable.
As dawn breaks, Mickey finds himself back at Austin’s mansion. The boy sits at the same head of the table where he’d faced d**k the night before. The severed head of Emilio Ortega has been removed, but its presence lingers like a ghost in the room.
“You’ve got a problem,” Mickey says, skipping the pleasantries.
Austin frowns, leaning forward. “What kind of problem?”
“The kind that doesn’t care how old you are,” Mickey replies. “Someone’s making moves on Ortega’s old territory. He’s building alliances, and he’s targeting anyone who doesn’t fall in line.”
Austin’s eyes widen. “You think he’ll come after us?”
“He will,” Mickey says bluntly. “And when he does, he won’t just take the organization. He’ll burn it to the ground.”
Austin swallows hard, but to his credit, he doesn’t falter. “What do we do?”
“We do what your father would’ve done,” Mickey says, his tone firm. “We send a message. Loud and clear.”
The boy nods, though his hands tremble slightly. Mickey notices but says nothing.
That night, Mickey sits in the dimly lit back room of a nightclub, a private space where deals are made and alliances forged. The air is thick with tension, the scent of cigars and whiskey heavy in the atmosphere. Across from him sit the leaders of three smaller factions who’ve been caught wavering in their loyalty.
“Let me make this simple,” Mickey says, his voice low but commanding. “You’re either with me, or you’re against me. There’s no middle ground. Choose wisely.”
One of the men, a wiry figure with a scar running down his cheek, shifts nervously. “We didn’t mean any disrespect, Mickey. It’s just... this new guy—”
Mickey’s hand slams onto the table, silencing him. “I don’t care what he promised you. You want to test my patience? Be my guest. But if you so much as think about flipping sides again, I’ll make an example out of you that’ll make Ortega’s head look like a mercy.” He snarls in anger, his expression frightening the men.
The man swallows hard, nodding quickly. “We’re with you. All the way.”
“Good,” Mickey says, leaning back. “Now get out of my sight.”
The men scramble to leave, their fear evident. Mickey watches them go, his smirk fading as soon as the door closes.
“Axel,” he calls out.
Axel steps forward from the shadows. “Yeah, boss?”
“Keep an eye on them,” Mickey says. “If they so much as breathe the wrong way, take them out.”
“You got it.”
As midnight approaches, Mickey stands on the rooftop of a skyscraper, overlooking the city that is his to claim. The wind whips around him, carrying with it the distant sounds of the nightlife below.
His phone buzzes. He glances at the screen and frowns. It’s a number he doesn’t recognize.
He answers, his voice sharp. “Who is this?”
A familiar voice comes through the line, smooth and taunting. “Miss me, Mickey?”
Mickey’s grip on the phone tightens. “You’ve got a lot of nerve calling me.”
“I told you we’d speak again,” the man says, his tone almost cheerful. “I just didn’t think it’d be this soon. But I couldn’t resist. I wanted to hear your voice when you realized just how deep you’re in.”
Mickey’s jaw clenches. “You’ve got my attention. What do you want?”
“Want?” the man laughs, a cold, hollow sound. “I already told you—I want you to work for me. But since you seem intent on making this difficult, I’ve decided to change the stakes.”
“What stakes?”
“Go home, Mickey,” the man says, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “Check on your people. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll understand that I’m not someone you can ignore.”
The line goes dead.
Mickey lowers the phone slowly, his mind racing. He turns to Axel, who is waiting nearby.
“Get the car,” Mickey orders. “Now.”
Axel doesn’t ask questions. He simply nods and disappears down the stairwell.
As Mickey stares out at the city, his heart pounds in his chest, and one thought consumes him.
Who has the man gone after? And what will be left when he gets there?
Axel drives through the dimly lit streets, the engine’s hum almost a backdrop to Mickey’s thoughts. The city looms outside, its towering skyscrapers standing tall like sentinels watching over the chaos beneath. Mickey sits in the back seat, his mind racing as he pulls out his phone and dials a number he hasn’t called since he moved to Seattle.
“Dalton,” a gruff voice answers, immediately recognizable.
“Brian,” Mickey says, his tone sharp but tinged with urgency. “It’s me.”
There’s a pause on the other end before the Black Dragon speaks again. “Mickey. What’s going on?”
“You tell me,” Mickey replies. “Are you safe? Is the family secure?”
Brian exhales, his voice steady but carrying the weight of his reputation. “There’s been no movement on my end. Nothing out of the ordinary. Why? You expecting trouble?”
“I got a call,” Mickey says, glancing out the window as the car speeds toward the airport. “Someone making threats, claiming they’re targeting people close to me. I thought of you.”
Brian lets out a low chuckle. “Listen, bro, I’ve been in this game longer than most of these fools have been alive. If anyone dared to come after me, they’d be signing their death warrant. Nobody’s stupid enough to poke the Black Dragon.”
Mickey smirks slightly despite the tension. That was Brian—arrogant but always right. “Still, I needed to check. You and your family are good?”
“We’re good,” Brian assures him. “But you? You sound rattled. That’s not like you, Mickey. Who’s this guy?”
“Don’t know yet,” Mickey admits, his jaw tightening. “But I’m going to find out.”
“You do that,” Brian says. “And Mickey? If you need backup, you know where to find me.”
“Appreciate it,” Mickey replies before ending the call.
He leans back against the seat, his fingers tapping the armrest as his thoughts whirl. If Brian’s safe, then who is this guy after?
His phone buzzes, pulling him from his thoughts. A text message.
Mickey frowns as he opens it. The image that greets him makes his brow furrow in confusion. It’s a picture of a woman in military cadet wear, her red curly hair tucked under a beret as she laughs at something out of frame. He doesn’t recognize her at first.
But then realization dawns, hitting him like a gut punch.
His eyes widen. It’s her. The woman from that night—the one-night stand he hadn’t been able to forget, no matter how hard he tried.
His jaw tightens. He never got her name. She hadn’t told him, and at the time, he hadn’t cared to ask. But now, staring at the picture, her laughter frozen in time, the memory of her sharp wit and fiery confidence resurfaces.
The phone rings, the screen flashing with an unknown number. Mickey knows who it is before he answers.
“Talk,” he growls, his voice sharp.
“Well, well,” the stranger says, his voice dripping with mockery. “Looks like you got my message.”
“Cut the games,” Mickey snaps, his patience thin. “What do you want?”
The man chuckles, the sound cold and calculated. “What do I want? Oh, Mickey, this isn’t about me. It’s about you. And her.”
Mickey’s grip on the phone tightens, his knuckles white. “If you lay a hand on her—”
“Relax,” the man interrupts smoothly. “She’s perfectly fine. For now. But I wonder—how long do you think she’ll stay that way? Hmm? Tell me, Mickey, how does it feel knowing she’s within my reach?”
Mickey’s voice drops, low and lethal. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“Am I?” the man counters, his tone taunting. “I think I’m playing it perfectly. You see, you’ve made enemies, Mickey. And while you’ve been busy building your empire, I’ve been watching. Waiting. And now, I have the one thing you didn’t even know you cared about.”
Mickey’s teeth grind. “She doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“Lying to yourself won’t help,” the man says with a sinister laugh. “You remember her, don’t you? That night. That look in her eyes. She left an impression, didn’t she? Enough for you to recognize her in a single photo.”
Mickey’s mind races, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He doesn’t respond, refusing to give the man the satisfaction.
“No clever comeback?” the man taunts. “Good. It means you’re listening. Now, here’s the deal. You leave Seattle. You dissolve your organization. And maybe—just maybe—I let her walk away unscathed.”
“You’re delusional,” Mickey growls. “If you think I’m going to bend to your demands—”
“You don’t have a choice,” the man interrupts coldly. “This isn’t a negotiation, Mickey. It’s a warning. Defy me, and she’ll pay the price. Do you really want her blood on your hands?”
The line goes dead before Mickey can respond.
“Boss?” Axel glances at him through the rearview mirror, his expression tense.
“Step on it,” Mickey orders, his voice a low snarl.
As the car speeds toward the airport, Mickey’s mind churns. He doesn’t even know her name, yet she’s become the center of this twisted game. One thing is certain—the man has made a critical mistake.
Mickey doesn’t crumble under threats. He retaliates. And whoever this stranger is, he’s about to learn that the hard way.
- Writer
