Paying My Father's Debt

Chapter 26:

Mary came to with a pounding headache and the acrid scent of stale whiskey burning in her nose.

Her limbs were heavy. Too heavy. When she tried to move, ropes bit into her wrists and ankles. Her arms were bound behind her, her body tied upright to a creaking wooden chair. The room was dim — bare lightbulbs swinging above her, casting long shadows over concrete walls and smoke-yellowed posters.

She knew that smell. That hum.

The Rattlesnake.

She was deep in Vongola territory — and this time, there’d be no pretending.

Her eyes adjusted, and then she saw them. Ben and Neil.

Her father paced near the window, eyes bloodshot, his movements jerky, nervous. But Neil sat calmly across from her, legs crossed, suit immaculate, sipping tea from a chipped porcelain cup like they were about to have brunch instead of a hostage negotiation.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Neil said cheerfully.

Mary’s voice cracked. “What the hell is this?”

Ben stepped forward, but Neil raised a finger. “Ah. Let’s keep things civilized.”

Mary stared at her father. “Dad… you brought me here?”

But it wasn’t Ben who answered. Neil did.

“Ben’s done taking initiative,” he said smoothly. “After all, he failed to kill your husband in a controlled hospital environment. Poor showing. So now, he’s under new management.”

Mary’s stomach dropped.

Her father didn’t deny it. He looked away.

“Why?” she asked, voice hoarse. “Why are you doing this?”

Neil leaned forward, smile fading. “Because it’s time for the Vongola to evolve. We’re not staying bottom-feeders while Millefiore prints gold off cards and chips. The casino empire Will built? It’s brilliant. Too brilliant to let him keep.”

“You mean steal,” Mary snapped. “Because you couldn’t build it yourself.”

Neil raised a brow. “It’s not theft if you kill the owner.”

The words hung in the air like smoke.

“We’ve got one more play,” Neil continued. “One clean shot left. While the clans are at mass this Sunday — when every camera’s off, every gun lowered, every alibi clean — that’s when we take Will off the board.”

Mary’s blood ran cold. “You think he’ll come to you?”

“He will,” Neil said easily. “Because we have you.”

Mary’s pulse thundered in her ears.

“You think you’re not part of this?” Neil asked. “You are the plan. I asked Felicity to give you that knife because I knew you’d get close. I gave your father the chance to finish the job too. And now—”

He stood, stepping closer, voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Now you’ll be the reason he walks into our trap. Because Will would burn down this world for you. You are the one thread he can’t sever.”

Mary shook her head. “He’ll outsmart you. He always does.”

Neil chuckled. “Then it’s a good thing we planned for everything.”

His eyes gleamed. “And if he dies — when he dies — you’ll be unclaimed. No protection. No title. No use.”

Mary’s chest tightened.

“Or maybe not,” Neil said, almost thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll take you. As a trophy. Something to keep.”

He turned to Ben, flashing a bright, mocking smile.

“Unless,” he said, “you want to play for her?”

Ben stiffened. “What?”

“A game,” Neil said. “Poker. Just like the old days.”

He walked over to a small table and pulled out a worn deck of cards, shuffling expertly. “If you win, I’ll let you both go. Clean slate. No pursuit. No hit.”

“And if I lose?” Ben asked, voice hollow.

“Then I take Mary,” Neil said without flinching. “Same terms your buddy William gave you years ago.”

Mary’s blood iced over. Ben didn’t speak.

Neil smiled, spreading the cards out between his fingers.

“Well?” he asked. “One last hand?”