An Unholy Stipulation (Prologue)

Had the tables been scantily attended, he would’ve been more keen, perhaps, to prevent the catastrophe that was to follow.

Gage rubbed his hands together in satisfaction as he observed the 35 tables on the ground floor teeming with gamblers who were eager to make a wager. The night was especially ripe with revelry. Tourists and locals alike flocked into The Armageddon, flitting from one table to the next in hopes of getting lucky.

The dealers would let them win on occasion to keep them interested, but not too much.

They were in the business of making money, after all.

Some gamblers didn’t even need the incentive of a win to stay in the game. Being the addicts they were, the mere hope of winning kept them glued to the game until one of the bouncers had to throw them out for their violent behavior.

Gage probably should feel sorry for them, but he had to feel sorry for himself first and foremost.

The Armageddon was one of a chain of highly successful casinos owned by none other than Romero Bartolone.

Bartolone was a ruthless Mafia family, and Gage had the misfortune of owning one of the best security companies in the world. When Romero asked him to take over the Security department of all his Casinos, Gage couldn’t say no.

No one said no to Bartolone.

The mere thought of the Romanian sent chills down his spine. 

Gage turned his chair away from the Surveillance screens towards the door, where two burly men were waiting in apprehension.

“Jose? Devon? I thought I told you to work the back exit to prevent stragglers from coming in?”

Jose, a bouncer with a larger frame and spiky blond hair looked at his companion, hesitating for a full minute before finally responding.

“Boss… we have a situation on our hands.”

“What situation?” Gage arched his brow, “Is it Mr. Royce again? I told you guys to only let him in three times a week only three- and cut him off after his 10th loss. He keeps picking fights with the dealers and injuring them.”

Gage waved his hand dismissively, and Devon coughed.

“It’s much worse than that, Sir.” He replied, running his trembling hand over the unkempt beard on his chin.

Gage narrowed his eyes. Jose and Devon were two of the best guards on his roster. Upon closer inspection, they both looked jittery, almost like they would jump out of their skin at any moment.

“Start talking.”

Jose had said that it would be better if they showed him, and boy--were they right.

Gage stood frozen in the middle of the underground boiler room, the temperature in his veins plummeting as his eyes processed the C4 charges scattered all over the walls. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the implications would be when the 15-minute timer ran out.

“How did this happen?!” Gage growled, turning on the two bouncers with menacing eyes. They shrank back from his stare.

“It was Dave and Cummings, Boss,” Devon stammered, “Surveillance caught them taking out the cameras. Since we were closest to the boiler room, Jose and I went to check it out.”

“We tried to disarm them, but each charge is set up on a pressure-sensitive trigger,” Jose explained, “If we move the charges a fraction of an inch from their original position, the whole thing will blow.”

Gage ran a frustrated hand through his hair, “ So there’s no way around this huh? Fuck!”

The trio looked at each other and then back at the explosives. 

Only 10 minutes remained on the clock.

10 minutes wasn’t enough to get everyone out of the Casino and salvage all the cash and assets. They could either save one or the other.

And they sure as hell couldn’t save themselves from the wrath of Romero.

They were as good as dead.

Gage pulled out his radio, yelling into it as he walked briskly to the elevator.

“CODE RED! I repeat- CODE FUCKING RED! T-10: I need the ground team to get everyone out of the first and second floors and as far from the casino as possible. Everyone working VIP, get the guests to The Stratus Hotel & tell them that Mr. Bartolone will compensate them for the inconvenience,” 

He stepped into the elevator with Jose and Devon in tow, slamming the button for the Top floor.

“Diablo, find Dave and Cummings. I want them alive so I can kill them myself!”

His team jumped into action the moment they heard the term ‘Code Red’. The indulgent ambiance was shattered by a blaring alarm, and security personnel were ushering dozens of civilians through emergency exits.

Gage had complete faith that his team would do what needed to be done so he focused on getting to the penthouse, particularly the safe. It was too late for him to do anything about the casino, but at least he could do his best to recover the cash and other valuables secured in the vault. Even if it managed to survive the blast, the collapse of the building would surely damage the priceless items locked inside.

He grimaced inwardly as he put in the codes— Bartolone no doubt was already notified of the situation and busy planning his gruesome death.

Gage rushed into the vault, popping open the empty briefcases that were on the shelves, and began carefully placing the art pieces inside their respective molds.

“Get as much cash as you can carry,” He told Jose and Devon.

With less than five minutes left on the clock, they slid down the emergency chute that was discreetly placed in the private bathroom of the penthouse.

They landed in the underground parking lot where Gage’s security detail was waiting in an SUV.

Spectators gathered in the vicinity of The Armageddon behind barricades, far enough to avoid the blast but close enough to see the chaos unfold.

The fire brigade was on standby along with the local bomb squad, all waiting for the inevitable fall of The Armageddon so they could run in and pick up the pieces.

Gage stood three blocks down, his hands balled into fists as he heard the first rumble. Jose stood to his left and Devon to his right, with concerned looks on their faces. The rest of the men were scattered along the block, silently cursing and calling for retribution.

At exactly 11:45 pm, the night sky lit up with a brilliant and consuming light that put the colorful Las Vegas strip to shame.

Gage watched in horror as the glorious Armageddon casino crumbled, descending into a sea of fire and ash.

⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜

Romero frowned in annoyance at his butler, who stood at the door, staring listlessly at him.

“What do you want, Wallace?” He growled.

Wallace approached his desk with a rum glass in one hand and a bottle of scotch in the other. He pulled the towel from his forearm and patiently rubbed the rum glass while Romero glared daggers.

Only when Romero was adequately supplied with liquor did he speak.

“The Armageddon was blown up ten minutes ago, Sir.”

The pen in his left hand snapped in two. “Excuse me?” Romero raised his brow and took a long sip, casually grabbing the pocket square from his left breast. He crushed it in his palm to absorb the spilled ink. He’d have to reprint the contract and start over from scratch.

He had impeccable hearing but there was no way the information coming to him was accurate.

Wallace sighed, dreading that he had to be the bearer of bad news. Romero was so unpredictable. It wasn’t uncommon for the Romanian to kill the messenger.

Fortunately for him, he was a butler to the Bartolone family for thirty-five years. He was practically family at this point. Wallace hoped Romero would remember that and opt not to kill him in a fit of rage.

“The Armageddon was blown up. It’s all over the news, the place is swarming with law enforcers. Firemen as we speak are trying to contain the fire that had spread to the Olsen Star Hotel and De Vida Night Club.”

“I don’t give a fuck about some stupid hotel and nightclub!” Romero roared, throwing his drink— glass and all— into the fireplace.

“Fuck!” He ran a hand through his dark hair, his mind going a mile a minute to find someone to nail for the demise of his most successful casino.

The Armageddon was the crown jewel in his chain of casinos, the very heart of his lucrative money laundering activities.

Neither the banks nor the police batted an eye at the excess cash flow, especially since many elite people of status visited for recreational pleasure.

If anyone happened to get curious, they were swiftly dealt with.

Wallace pulled out a phone to show him video evidence. The longer Romero watched, the darker his expression became. His eyes turned to a cold abyss as he witnessed the staggering loss of a billion dollars.

He had stakeholders and investors he would have to do control damage with on both sides of the law, and his extensive clientele would be expecting their washed money in hand.

It was gonna be an absolute shitstorm.

“Bring me Berretta. Now.”

This offense demanded blood, and he would have it.

Romero walked into the hotel room where Gage and two members of his security team were being held.

Gage was tied to a chair, blood dripping from a cut on his brow, while the other two- Dave and Cummings, knelt together on the floor, their faces smug and satisfied. Diablo, the man tasked with capturing the two, stood behind watching.

“Otrava,” Gage said weakly in acknowledgment, straightening in his chair.

“Indeed,” Romero hummed, pushing his sleeves up and sitting on the chair that was brought out for him. “What’s this I hear about my Armageddon?” He propped his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers under his sharp chin.

“Our security team was compromised.”

“Come again?”

“The team was compromised,” Gage admitted again, “We had a huge wave of guests coming in for the weekend and needed extra hands. I hired Dave and Cummings to work a few night shifts. I vetted them—”

“Vetted?—”

“Everything checked out!” Gage choked on his explanation, his airway constricted in Ronin's grip

“Everything checked out huh?” Romero’s voice got low and quiet, almost comforting. A stark contrast to the hand that was squeezing the life out of Berretta. He tightened his chokehold, “If it did, my casino wouldn’t be rubble, would it?”

“I didn’t know they were Sosa’s men!” Gage struggled to get the words out.

The Sosa Kartel was a large drug ring run by Sars Sosa— the bane of Romero’s existence. Sars tried for many years to get into money laundering, but Romero’s operation was just too great, his reach too far. Every major player was already fiercely Loyal to the Bartolone Family, and Sars was shut out.

Sars was always trying under-handed tactics to weaken Romero’s hold and was ignored for the most part, but this—blowing up his casino—was the last straw. 

It was time to swat a fly, Romero decided.

Right after he dealt with Berretta.

“It’s your job to know!” Romero bellowed. His head whipped to the right when Dave started cackling under his breath.

If he wanted Otrava’s attention, he got it. Romero’s rage was now directed at him and his accomplice. Diablo stepped forward and hit him with the but of his gun.

“Pleased, aren’t you?” Romero chuckled, standing above them. His regard was that of a Lion towards freshly mauled meat.

“Damn, straight. It’s about time someone taught y’all Bartolones a lesson, prancing around like you own the place.” Dave smiled smugly.

Cummings, the fool he was— added to the insult, “Such a shame you weren’t in it when we blew your pretty little playhouse to bits.”

Romero laughed. His eyes twinkled with something dark and sinister. His gaze flicked to Diablo, then to Cummings, “Cut out that one’s tongue.”

When Diablo finished, he threw the offending organ to the floor and stomped on it. Cummings slumped to the side, choking on his blood. He coughed, gurgled, and sputtered until he was silent.

“Puta!” Dave spat at Romero’s feet. Romero ignored him and beckoned to Diablo to bring a small velvet box. Gage watched on in silence. He knew what was about to happen.

Otrava only reserved this punishment for the worst of his enemies. He had created the poison himself, a deadly concoction that slowly destroyed the body from the inside out. A single dose would have a man suffering for days. Double the dosage and you’d be dead in 24 hours.

From the looks of it, Otrava wanted it slow and painful.

Romero donned black gloves and lifted the syringe from the mold. Dave eyed the grey liquid and tried to mask his panic with rage.

“You can kill me, but you can never stop Sosa! We’ll never stop coming after you, you scu!-”

Romero pulled his head back and jammed the needle through his left eye. Dave howled in pain as the poison was released into his body.

“Go back to your master, dog,” Romero growled, “and tell him Otrava says: This means war.”

With that, Diablo dragged Dave out of the room while he yelled all manner of obscenities.

“What am I gonna do with you now, Berretta?” Romero said more to himself when they were alone. He leaned back on the chair and crossed his arms.

Gage was excellent at his job in all the years they worked together. Loyal and meticulous. How could he have made such a grave error? They had an amicable relationship for the most part, and money could get him another security company, but true loyalty was hard to find.

However… one billion dollars wasn’t easy to forgive.

“I could kill you and everyone you’ve ever loved,” He said after a while, “but that won’t get me my money back, and it sure as hell won’t satisfy the long list of people I now owe.”

“I can avenge you,” Gage straightened on his chair. “If you let me go, I can infiltrate the Sosa Kartel and take them down from the inside.”

Romero chuckled, “Is that so? Who’s to say that you won’t run off and hide? Not that there’s anywhere you can go where I won’t find you.” He tsked, “I need more than just your word Berretta. You lost me a billion goddamn dollars.”

“I will return, I swear it.” Gage pleaded. Romero shook his head.

“I need leverage, Berretta. Something that will motivate you to do as you so swear. That’s the only way you are leaving this room alive tonight.”

Gage held his head down, his shoulders dropping in defeat. There was only one thing that was so precious to him that could appease Otrava. It was a dreadful idea and he prayed in his heart that God would forgive him for what he was about to do.

“I have a daughter,” Gage lifted his head. Romero’s brows lifted in surprise.

“You have a daughter?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting…” Romero smirked. Berretta couldn’t be called the best if he didn’t know how to hide his own daughter. Romero had done a thorough check on Berretta, and none of the reports showed that he had a kid. He was satisfied that Gage had a soft spot he could stab.

“My daughter and heir is most precious to me. She can remain with you until I repay my debts.”

“And if you fail?”

“I won’t fail,” Gage answered immediately. There was no room for failure or his only child would be trapped with Bartolone forever. He didn’t even wanna think about what Romero would do to her if his plan fell through. No. Failure was not an option.

Romero considered everything that was said carefully. He still wanted to kill something, but Berretta’s proposal was better. Sosa was indeed the number one person to blame. If Gage could do as he vowed, then that would recover a significant portion of the money lost and leave a gaping door for new clients.

If the old man failed, then he could just keep the kid and find an appropriate way to use her for revenge.

“Very well then,” Romero smiled, a cold baring of his teeth that struck fear into Gage. There was no turning back now.

“Bring her to me.”