Page 56 of The Payment

“Give him time,” Nevil whispered.“He’s keeping his cool.”

“Polov isn’t some street thug,” Jarek checked his watch again, each second crawling by.

“I’ve been working on something big,ese.Something that’ll put me at the top.”Martinez’s chest swelled with pride.“You’re the only one I trust to partner with on this score.”

“Stop dancing around it,pendejo.I don’t have all fucking day.”Polov’s patience wore visibly thin.

“Fifty million in pure heroin.Grade-A shit.Plus, guaranteed safe passage through the Northeast corridor.”Martinez’s words cut through the tension like a blade.

Polov’s head snapped up, greed flickering across his face.Pure heroin meant untouched by regular dealers, uncut and undiluted—pharmaceutical grade.It was the kind of product that could triple profits with minimal risk once properly distributed.The Northeast corridor was the golden ticket with a clear route from Mexico straight through to New York.

“Where did you get your hands on that kind of weight?Mexican made?”

“That’s need-to-know until we shake on it,cabrón.I’m not stupid enough to give you a chance to cut me out.I run point on this, but I need someone with your connections on this side of the border.You get your cut; I get mine.Location comes later.”

The warehouse crackled with danger as two predators circled their prey.Jarek smirked as he watched their dance, each of them believing they were the hunter.

"Little do they know they both are prey," Jarek muttered just as a gruff voice boomed from the dark corner.

“Gregor Polov!You fucking traitor!”

“And so, the final waltz begins.”Jarek’s lips curved into a cold smile.

“Who the fuck is that?”Declan whispered as he squinted through the dark.

“A twist our dear leader didn’t tell us about,” Nevil grumbled.

“It was a last-minute decision after Polov’s attempt to kill my wife.Now, he has to pay his dues in more ways than one.”

A figure emerged from the shadows—Cesare Marino, the new Godfather of the Sicilian Mafia.His Italian suit was tailored to perfection, with his salt-and-pepper hair precisely cut.His face bore the refined cruelty of old money and inherited power.Every step exuded the ruthless authority of a man who had clawed his way to the top of the Sicilian underworld.As Matteo Denaro’s illegitimate son, he had spent years proving himself worthy of the crown.When his father died in custody, the families unanimously voted him in as a testament to both his ruthlessness and strategic mind.

“So, this is how you honor our agreement?”Cesare’s accent cut through the air as his face contorted into a cruel smirk.“I knew you couldn’t be trusted, Polov.”

The color drained from Polov’s face.His decades-long alliance with Matteo Denaro had meant nothing to Cesare, who had forced him to earn his place in the new regime.The distribution rights deal had cost Polov millions and countless favors and was exactly what Jarek had needed for this grand finale.

“Cesare, I had no idea this was why Martinez arranged the meeting.He—”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”Cesare’s voice dropped to a whisper that carried more menace than any shout.“First, you try to manipulate me with that pathetic distribution deal.Now I find you here, making arrangements behind my back with this Mexican dog?”

Martinez flinched at the insult but stayed silent, his survival instinct kicking in.

“You don’t understand—” Polov’s usual confidence crumbled as realization dawned in his eyes.He might have survived decades in the underworld by reading situations, but he had failed to foresee this one...it spelled only one thing—.

“Oh, I understand perfectly.”Cesare advanced with measured steps.“My father might have tolerated your games, but I am not Matteo Denaro.The old ways are dead, just like you’re about to be.”

One of Martinez’s men lost his cool and drew his gun.The warehouse erupted in chaos.Bullets ricochet off metal walls as bodies dropped to the concrete floor.Polov’s guards formed a shield around him as they hustled him toward the Mercedes.

Cesare and his men moved with surprising speed and cut off Polov’s escape.

“Do you know what my father used to say about traitors?”He raised an obscene gold-encrusted Glock.“Nothing.He just killed them.”The gunshot echoed through the warehouse as the bullet found its mark between Polov’s eyes.

Police sirens wailed in the distance as the sound of gunfire evaporated.

“FBI’s a little late, aren’t they?”Declan said grimly.

Jarek stared at Polov’s body with his face carved from stone.Blood pooled around the dead man’s head, his vacant eyes fixed on nothing.Twenty years of hatred, vengeance, and purpose drained away with each drop of his biggest enemy’s blood.

“FBI, drop your weapons!”The FBI stormed in, armed and ready to fire.They rounded up the survivors, including Martinez and Cesare, who surrendered with aristocratic disdain.Jarek had no doubt that someone high up in the Sicilian government would have extracted him within hours.By sunset tomorrow, Cesate would once again walk free.

---