Chapter 60 Veyra’s First Standoff
The bell above the door clanged violently.
Veyra looked up.
A man strode in. He was tall. Broad-shouldered. His hair was slicked back with too much gel. His suit was cheap and tight. His face was hard, with a scar running from his eyebrow to his cheekbone.
Behind him, four thugs spilled into the shop. They were dressed in black. Their faces were mean. Their hands were stuffed in their pockets.
The man scanned the shop. His eyes landed on the kitchen door.
"Mother-in-law!" he shouted. "Come out here!"
Veyra’s blood went cold.
Mother-in-law?
She recognized the man. Xander Hale She had seen his face in the news. He was a small-time gangster. A loan shark. The sort of man who broke kneecaps for a living.
And he was calling Aunt Clark "mother-in-law."
Veyra grabbed the menu from the table. She held it up, covering her face. She looked at the window. Li Wei was still standing across the street. His hand was moving toward his earpiece.
She shook her head. Just slightly. A signal. Wait.
Li Wei’s hand stopped.
The kitchen door swung open. Aunt Clark stepped out. Her face was pale. Her hands were shaking.
"Xander Hale," she said. Her voice was steady, but Veyra could hear the fear underneath. "I told you to stay away."
Xander Hale smiled. It was not a nice smile. "I can’t stay away from my future mother-in-law. Where’s your daughter? I came to take her on a date."
"My daughter is not interested in you."
"Your daughter doesn’t get a choice." Xander Hale stepped closer. The thugs fanned out behind him. "I’ve been patient. I’ve been polite. But my patience is running out."
Aunt Clark’s chin lifted. "You’re a criminal. A thug. My daughter will never marry you."
Xander Hale’s smile vanished and his hand moved. The slap echoed through the shop.
Aunt Clark’s head snapped to the side. Her hand flew to her cheek. Her glasses fell off her face and clattered to the floor.
"Old woman," Xander Halesaid. His voice was low. Dangerous. "Either you hand over your daughter, or I destroy this shop. And everyone in it."
He turned to his men.
"Smash it," he said. "Everything. Every table. Every chair. Every plate. I want nothing left."
The thugs moved.
One of them grabbed a chair. He swung it against the wall. Wood splintered.
Another overturned a table. Plates shattered. A glass broke.
Customers screamed. They pushed back from their tables. They grabbed their bags. Their children. They ran for the door.
Veyra stood up. She tucked her face down. She let the crowd carry her toward the exit.
She was one of them. Just another frightened customer. No one would notice her.
She passed Xander Hale.
Something stopped her.
She did not know what it was. The memory of Lily’s face in the cage. The memory of her mother dying alone in a hospital bed. The memory of every time she had run away. Every time she had looked the other way. Every time she had been too scared to act.
She stopped.
Her hand went into her bag. Her fingers found the Nightblade.
She had not loaded it. She had not had time. There was no magazine in the grip. No round in the chamber.
But Xander Hale did not know that.
She pulled the gun out. She pressed the barrel against the back of Xander Hale’s head.
"Don’t move," she said.
Her voice was quiet. But in the chaos of the shop, it cut through like a blade.
Xander Hale froze.
His men froze.
Aunt Clark stared.
The remaining customers stared.
Veyra’s hand was steady. Her finger was outside the trigger guard. She had learned that much from Li Wei. Do not touch the trigger unless you intend to shoot.
"Tell your men to stop," Veyra said.
Xander Hale’s voice was a growl. "Who the hell are you?"
"Someone who doesn’t like bullies. Tell them to stop. Now."
Xander Hale did not move. His men did not move.
The shop was silent except for the sound of dripping water from a broken pipe.
Veyra pressed the barrel harder against his skull.
"Last chance," she said.
Xander Hale raised his hand. "Stop," he said to his men. "Everyone stop."
The thugs lowered their arms. The man holding a chair set it down. The man with a handful of broken plates let them fall.
Veyra did not lower the gun.
"Now," she said, "you’re going to apologize to Aunt Clark."
Xander Hale’s jaw tightened. "You’re making a mistake."
"No. I’m not." Veyra’s voice was calm. "You came into her shop. You slapped her. You threatened her. You tried to destroy her business. You owe her an apology."
"I owe her nothing."
Veyra cocked the hammer. The sound was loud in the quiet shop and Xander Hale’s eyes widened.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "I’m sorry."
"Look at her when you say it."
Xander Hale turned his head. His eyes met Aunt Clarks.
"I’m sorry," he said.
Aunt Clark said nothing. Her hand was still on her cheek. Her glasses were still on the floor.
Veyra kept the gun pressed to his head.
"Aunt Clark," she said. "Do you have rope?"
Aunt Clark blinked. "Rope?"
"In the kitchen. Any kind of rope. Or zip ties. Or anything we can use to tie these men up."
Aunt Clark nodded slowly. She disappeared into the kitchen. She returned a moment later with a coil of nylon rope.
Veyra looked at the thugs.
"You," she said to the one nearest her. "Tie up your friends. Hands behind their backs. Tight."
The thug looked at Xander Hale.
"Do it," Xander Hale growled.
The thug took the rope. He tied the hands of the other three men. His knots were clumsy but effective.
"Now tie him," Veyra said, nodding at Xander Hale.
The thug hesitated.
"Do it," Xander Hale said.
The thug tied Xander Hale’s hands behind his back. The rope bit into his wrists.
Veyra stepped back. She lowered the gun. She kept it in her hand, visible, ready.
Xander Hale’s face was red with rage. His eyes burned.
"You’re dead," he said. "You and the old woman. You’re both dead."
Veyra looked at him. She did not flinch.
"Call the police," she said to Aunt Clark.
Aunt Clark was already reaching for the phone behind the counter.