Marcus’s eyes locked onto my chest, and then drifted to the massive, snarling Black Dragon wrapped around the iron anchor etched into my skin.
I turned my head, fixing my eyes on him.
Marcus Thorne froze.
I had never met the man, but the mythology of my empire was drilled into the skull of every criminal who ever tried to operate on the West Coast. The older mobsters talked about Vance the way sailors talked about hurricanes. You didn't fight him; you just prayed he didn't notice you.
Marcus’s arrogance evaporated in a split second. The color drained from his face so quickly I thought he was going to faint. His jaw dropped, his perfectly groomed exterior shattering into absolute, unadulterated terror.
He recognized the ghost.
Marcus took a step backward, his hands trembling violently. He didn't reach for a weapon. He didn't try to negotiate. His knees simply gave out.
The powerful Boss of the port collapsed onto the wet, oily concrete, falling completely forward until he was crawling on his hands and knees. He scrambled across the puddles, ruining his expensive suit, stopping only when he was bowing a few feet away from my boots.
“B-Boss,” Marcus stammered, his voice cracking, thick with sheer panic. “Mr. Vance. I… I swear to God, I didn't know. I didn't know it was you. If I had known… please, you have to believe me, we didn't know you were here!”
I looked down at the man groveling in the dirt. I felt nothing but a cold, heavy exhaustion. I didn't want to rule these people anymore. But I couldn't let them exist in my city.
“The girl,” I said, my voice barely more than a ragged whisper, but carrying enough weight to make Marcus flinch as if he had been struck. “Why?”
“It was a side deal! A mistake!” Marcus cried, keeping his face pressed toward the asphalt. “Just a transport contract, I swear! I’ll cancel it right now. I’ll burn the containers. Whatever you want, Mr. Vance. Just name it. Please.”
I looked over at Julian. The enforcer was plastered against the Ferrari, his eyes wide with horror as he watched his untouchable boss begging for his life in the mud. Julian realized, far too late, exactly who he had beaten down.
“He broke my watch,” I said quietly, pointing a finger at Julian.
Marcus Thorne’s head snapped up. His eyes darted from me to the young enforcer. A desperate, savage need to survive took over his features. He knew he had to offer a sacrifice to appease the ghost.
Marcus stood up, his face twisted in panic. He marched directly toward Julian.
“Marcus, please!” Julian screamed, finally finding his voice, raising his hands in a frantic surrender. “I didn't know! He looked like a homeless—!"
Marcus didn't let him finish. He grabbed Julian by the lapels of his ruined suit, violently throwing the younger man face-first against the hood of the Ferrari. Julian shrieked as Marcus pinned him down. With a brutal, practiced efficiency, Marcus grabbed Julian’s right arm, braced his boot against the car, and violently yanked the arm backward and up.