Chapter 4
The heavy, brass-studded oak doors of the ballroom slammed shut with a definitive, echoing thud. The distinct click of deadbolts being thrown locked the entire wedding party inside. Panic rippled through the well-dressed crowd. Women clutched their pearls; men loosened their silk ties.
"You can't do this, Xavier!" Julian shouted, struggling to his knees amidst the broken flowers. He clutched his rapidly swelling jaw. "You're holding made men hostage! The East Coast bosses have representatives in this very room!"
"I don't care if the Pope is in this room," Xavier said, slowly pacing in front of the overturned dessert cart. "A rat is a rat, regardless of the suit they wear."
He held up the digital drive, the small piece of metal catching the cinematic light.
"There are fifty guests here," Xavier announced, his voice projecting effortlessly. "This envelope was placed in a vase on a public pedestal. A dead drop. Whoever was supposed to pick it up is currently standing among you. Step forward now, and I will only put a bullet in your head. Make me find you, and I promise, you will beg for a bullet before I am done."
Silence blanketed the room. Not a single person moved.
"I see," Xavier nodded grimly. He turned to Caroline. "Who is the contact, Caroline? Give me the name, and I might let Julian walk out of here with his legs intact."
"I don't know his name!" Caroline shrieked, tears ruining her expensive makeup. "I swear to God, Xavier! They never gave us a name! They just said a man wearing a red silk pocket square would brush past the pedestal and take the envelope during the toast!"
Xavier’s deep, calculating eyes immediately swept the crowd. Red silk pocket squares. It was a classic, subtle identifier. He scanned the chests of his capos, his lieutenants, and the visiting delegates.
Suddenly, a man near the back of the room—a visiting associate from the Lucchese family—shoved a woman aside and bolted toward the service exit behind the catering tables. A flash of crimson silk fluttered from his breast pocket.
"Stop him!" Vincent roared, drawing his weapon.
The man didn't stop. He kicked a catering table over, sending crystal glasses shattering across the marble, and drew a suppressed pistol from his jacket.
"Drop it!" Xavier commanded, entirely unfazed by the weapon pointed in his general direction.
"The Commission sends its regards, Hayes!" the man yelled, raising his gun.
May you like
Before the assassin could squeeze the trigger, Xavier drew his own sidearm with blinding speed. He didn't flinch, didn't seek cover. He fired two consecutive shots. The deafening roar of the unsuppressed heavy caliber gun shook the crystal chandeliers.
The assassin's chest jerked violently backward. He collapsed against the service doors, sliding down to the marble floor, leaving a streak of red against the white paint. The room erupted into screams.
