Chapter 8: The Enemy Wearing a Father’s Face
The words hung in the air.
The person who raised you.
Nobody needed to explain.
Vincent already knew.
But knowing something and accepting it were two different things.
His mind fought against it.
Because the truth was too painful.
Marcus Vale had not just been his mentor.
He had been there for everything.
His first motorcycle.
His first fight.
His first heartbreak.
When Vincent was seventeen and angry at the world, Marcus was the one who told him he had potential.
When Vincent had no direction, Marcus gave him one.
The man who destroyed him might also be the man who built him.
Vincent looked at Marcus.
“Tell me it isn’t true.””
Marcus stayed silent.
That silence hurt more than any confession.
Vincent stepped closer.
“Tell me.””
Marcus looked at him.
And for the first time, Vincent saw regret.
Not guilt.
Regret.
“I did what I had to do.””
The answer broke something inside Vincent.
“You don’t even deny it?””
Marcus sighed.
“Your father never understood the world we lived in.””
“No.””
Vincent shook his head.
“He understood it better than you.””
Marcus’s expression hardened.
“You think your father was some kind of hero because he left you a recording?””
“He loved me.””
“I loved you too.””
The sentence was immediate.
Almost desperate.
Vincent stared at him.
“That’s not love.””
Marcus looked hurt.
“You have no idea what I sacrificed for you.””
Clara stepped forward.
“You sacrificed everyone else.””
Marcus looked at her.
“You don’t know anything.””
“I know my father died because of you.””
A long silence followed.
Marcus’s eyes moved to Clara.
Then back to Vincent.
“You believe them.””
Vincent looked at the evidence box.
At the recorder.
At the letter.
At everything that proved his entire life was built on a lie.
“Yes.””
Marcus nodded slowly.
“Then you’re making the same mistake your father made.””
Vincent narrowed his eyes.
“What mistake?””
“Trusting people who claim they’re saving you.””
Before Vincent could answer, headlights flashed through the windows.
More vehicles.
Marcus looked outside.
His expression changed.
“What?””
Vincent noticed.
“Who is that?””
Marcus didn’t answer.
That scared Vincent more than anything.
A moment later, the front door opened.
A group of men entered.
But they weren’t wearing Iron Wolves patches.
They wore expensive suits.
Professional.
Controlled.
The kind of men who didn’t need to carry weapons openly.
The man in front stepped inside.
He looked at Vincent.
“Daniel Maddox’s son.””
Vincent stepped forward.
“Who are you?””
The man smiled.
“Someone cleaning up an old mistake.””
Marcus moved.
Not toward Vincent.
Toward the newcomer.
“Adrian.””
The man smiled.
“Marcus.””
The way they said each other’s names told Vincent everything.
They weren’t strangers.
They were partners.
Adrian looked around the house.
“Twenty-five years, and we’re still dealing with Daniel’s ghosts.””
Vincent’s anger rose.
“You killed him.””
Adrian looked amused.
“No.””
A pause.
“Marcus did.””
The room exploded into silence.
Marcus turned.
“Shut your mouth.””
Adrian laughed.
“You still think you can control the story?””
Vincent looked between them.
“What is he talking about?””
Adrian walked closer.
“Your father discovered Marcus was working for me.””
Marcus’s face darkened.
“Enough.””
Adrian ignored him.
“Daniel tried to expose us.””
Vincent stared.
“And Marcus stopped him.””
Adrian smiled.
“Exactly.””
Marcus suddenly grabbed Adrian by the collar.
“You’re done.””
Several men raised their weapons.
Vincent moved instantly.
The room became chaos.
But before anyone fired, Elias shouted.
“Stop!””
Everyone froze.
The old man stepped forward.
His face was filled with pain.
“There’s something you don’t know.””
Vincent looked at him.
“What?””
Elias looked at Marcus.
Then Adrian.
Then finally Vincent.
“Your father didn’t die that night.””
Nobody spoke.
The sentence made no sense.
Vincent felt dizzy.
“What?””
Elias swallowed.
“He survived.””
Marcus’s face changed.
“No.””
Elias nodded.
“Yes.””
Vincent stepped forward.
“Where is he?””
Elias looked away.
And that was when Vincent understood.
There was more.
Something worse.
“Elias.””
The old man whispered:
“Your father has been alive this entire time.””
The room went silent.
Then Clara’s phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Her face went pale.
Vincent noticed.
“Who is it?””
She looked up.
Tears forming in her eyes.
“It’s him.””
Vincent’s heart stopped.
“Who?””
Clara answered.
May you like
And whispered:
“Dad.””
