Page 6 of Bought By Santa

Without waiting for a response, I stalk out of the room, joining my brother in the car. As we head for the garage, the chill New York night air bites at my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the fire burning within me.

“How did you catch him?” I ask my brother.

He chuckles darkly. “After going through the accounts, I noticed a small amount disappearing around the third Wednesday of every month. The offshore account it went into is owned by one of our shell corporations—”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Who in the hell would dare not just to steal from us, but to be that reckless and downright stupid?

Jack shakes his head. “That’s the thing… I don’t think who I caught is the real thief. I think it’s a fall guy.”

I mull over his words for a few moments, and the more I do, the more feasible it sounds.

This betrayal—it’s personal. An attack on the Knights, on the empire my mom died for exactly twenty-eight years ago, on everything I’ve sworn to uphold and expand. It’s fucking insulting just how personal it is.

The city speeds by in a blur of lights and shadows, but I barely register it. My focus narrows to the task ahead. “Who do you think the puppeteer is?” I grind out, every muscle tensed with lethal intent.

“Could be anyone from the Russians to the Italians. Hell, it might even be someone in our inner circle,” Jack replies, his voice steady but grim. “But whoever it is, they’ve got connections. This isn’t small-time thievery.”

“Connections that could hurt us.” It’s not a question. The thought of vulnerability in my empire makes my blood boil, a dangerous heat simmering just under my skin. “I’ll contact the three. Get them to use their contacts.”

The three… well, it’s not their official title or anything. They’re just the three biggest crime lords who answer to me; Dominic, Lee, and Sergei, three men that have earned my trust and loyalty.

“Yeah, good idea.” Jack pauses, then adds, “We need to send a message, Nick. No one betrays the Knights and lives to tell the tale.”

“Damn straight.” I agree, a cold resolve settling over me like armor. My mind races through the inventory logs, financial reports, faces of every single person who’s ever pledged loyalty to me. A traitor lurks among them, and tonight, they will learn what it means to cross me.

“Do you think it could be—”

I hold up my hand, silencing Jack before he can finish that sentence. “It’s not Sergei, Lee, or Dominic. Anyone but any of those three.”

Letting it go, Jack checks the rearview mirror for tails. “East docks are coming up.”

“Slow down when we turn the corner. I want a silent approach. Make sure your piece is ready.” My own gun feels heavy against my hip, by now, it’s like an extension of myself. One I never go anywhere without, not even to dinner at my dad’s house.

“Always is.” Jack taps the holster under his jacket, the subtle click of the safety a dark promise.

“Remember, we get in, we find the mole, and we make an example. No hesitation.” The steely tone of my voice reflects the iron in my will. There can be no weakness, not with so much at stake.

“Understood,” Jack confirms, his readiness palpable in the confined space of the car.

I take a deep breath, letting the icy air sharpen my senses, the adrenaline coursing through my veins. As we near the docks, the scent of saltwater and diesel fuel assaults my nostrils, a pungent reminder of the dirty work that awaits.

“Cut the lights,” I command as we slip into the cloak of darkness that shrouds the docks. Jack obeys without a word, and we glide forward like predators stalking prey.

“Let’s park here, out of sight.” I point to a shadowed alcove between two warehouses, the perfect spot for our ambush.

Jack maneuvers the car with practiced ease, killing the engine as we settle into position.

“Check your gear. Once we step out of this car, there’s no turning back.” I pat down my own kit, ensuring everything is in place—the knives, the gun, the cuffs. Tools of persuasion for convincing a rat to sing.

“Ready.” Jack’s response is curt, mirroring my own unyielding determination.

I nod curtly, opening the door to step out into the night. Every cell in my body vibrates with the need for retribution, for control, for the absolute certainty that after tonight, the name Knight will be synonymous with untouchable.

Together we advance into the darkness, toward the reckoning that awaits. Jack at my flank, silent as death. The icy wind off the harbor is biting, carrying with it the stench of decay and old secrets. We approach the dilapidated storage unit where our mole—a traitor to the family—waits bound and gagged.

Even if the guy proves to be nothing more than a dupe, he’ll pay the ultimate price tonight.

“Nick, remember we need him talking,” Jack mutters, his voice barely a whisper against the howling wind.

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