Chapter 3 - The Cold Execution Of Trust
The small yellow flame illuminated Jax’s rugged jawline, reflecting off the dark ink of the tattoos wrapping around his throat and hand.
He held the flame against the corner of the classified document until the leather and paper caught fire, filling the air with heavy smoke.
"Victor," Jax called out smoothly, his voice completely casual as he adjusted the gold watch on his left wrist.
"Boss?" Victor replied instantly, stepping forward from the shadows near the neon sign, his hand resting inside his suit jacket.
"How long have you been taking paychecks from the Rossi syndicate out of Brooklyn?" Jax asked without turning his head.
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush the breath out of a weaker man.
Victor’s hand twitched inside his dark gray jacket, his eyes darting toward the glass exit doors leading down to the private elevators.
"Jax, I don't know what she told you," Victor began, his voice dropping into a defensive, gravelly rasp. "She's rattled, boss."
"She was ambushed in Midtown," Victor added, taking a half-step backward toward the edge of the rooftop bar.
"She ran through three red lights with a stolen federal folder... she's bringing heat down on your entire operation."
Jax stood up slowly from his booth, his tall, broad frame blocking the glowing Manhattan skyline behind him.
"She was late because you gave her route to the hitters in Queens, Victor," Jax said flatly, stepping out into the open space.
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Before Victor could draw his concealed weapon, Jax moved with lightning speed, driving a sharp tactical knife straight through Victor's leather holster.
Victor gasped in agonizing shock, falling to his knees against the marble floor as Jax disarmed him with two swift, practiced moves.
