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And if they aren’t with me, they’re against me, and I might have no choice but to eliminate my competition.
And I’m ready for that.
There’s a rustle outside my office door early the next morning. Before I can rise from my desk, the door slams open, and Alex forces Douglas Anderson inside.
I suck in a breath. The drug dealer’s presence is a most unwelcome intrusion, and I fix him with a steely gaze as he stands before me, no doubt expecting some leniency.
How dare he come to see me.
“I found him lurking about,” Alex says.
Anderson struggles against Alex’s hold. “I want an audience with you,” he tells me.
I motion for Alex to release him. Anderson looks smug as he rubs his wrists. The air in my office feels heavy as Anderson stands before me, a wary tension lingering between us.
I lean back in my chair, fingers steepled in front of me, eyeing him with a calculated expression. “You wanted an audience. Speak.”
He looks nervous. Good. He should be nervous coming here.
“Look, I know we’re not on the best terms, but I came to propose a deal.”
I raise my eyebrows. “A deal? You’ve got thirty seconds to make it worthwhile.”
Anderson wastes no time, his voice carrying a tone of urgency mixed with a hint of desperation. “I want my drugs back,” he declares, his words hanging in the room like a sinister refrain. “I know you snatched them. You didn’t destroy them.”
My eyebrows arch in surprise. This is unexpected. I assumed his appearance would be accompanied by threats or pleas, but the simplicity of his demand catches me off guard. Leaning back in my chair, I fold my arms, a gesture of both contemplation and control.
The proposition hangs in the air, and I consider the implications. A twisted smile tugs at the corner of my lips. I want to make him squirm.
I also want him dead.
I slowly stand. “And why would I entertain such a request?” I retort, my voice cool and measured. The question lingers in the air, daring Anderson to provide an answer that might sway my decision.
His eyes dart nervously, and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll leave the state. I’ll disappear. You’ll never hear from me again. Just give me back what’s rightfully mine.”
A bitter smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. The audacity of his request is almost laughable. Yet, beneath the surface, I sense an opportunity. The power play initiated by Marlena Voss and the escalating conflict with Damian and the Eclipse Society have left me treading on precarious ground. Perhaps an unconventional resolution to the Anderson situation could serve my interests.
“Leave the state, you say?” I mull over his proposition, eyes narrowing as I study his demeanor. “And why should I believe you’ll uphold your end of the bargain?”
Anderson’s gaze meets mine, and there’s a flicker of sincerity or at least a convincing façade. “I’ve got no reason to stick around. Your empire, your city… it’s all yours. I just want to walk away.”
A moment of silence lingers, the weight of the decision pressing upon me. The chaos outside and the calculated moves of my adversaries form the backdrop to this unexpected negotiation. The shadows in my office seem to dance in anticipation as I weigh the risks and rewards.
“You want your poison back, hmm? Interesting choice.”
Desperation burns in his eyes. “Look, I’ve got no beef with you. Just give me my drugs, and you won’t have to deal with me again.”
The echoes of my brother’s sacrifice reverberate through the corridors of my consciousness, a constant reminder of theweight carried by the choices I make. In this moment, facing Douglas Anderson and the remnants of my brother’s thwarted plan, a glimmer of redemption and self-discovery emerges from the shadows.
I decide to grant Anderson a semblance of mercy, a calculated move that intertwines my pursuit of power with a nod to the intricate dance of morality.
“You can have half of your drugs back and leave, your life spared,” I say firmly.
Anderson’s mouth hangs open.
“Or I kill you right now.” I deliberately remove my gun from my purse and point it at him. “What’ll it be?
“Ah… I… Those drugs?—”
