Chapter 143

Chapter 143
Third person's POV

Night fell like spilled ink across the western suburbs. The abandoned St. Anthony's Church stood alone in the desolate wasteland, like a monument to forgotten sins. Moonlight filtered through shattered stained glass, casting fractured patterns of red and gold across crumbling stone.

What had once been a sanctuary now held only decay and desolation—ivy coiled around broken walls, stone pillars bore the scars of time, marble floor tiles lay shattered beneath dust and dead leaves. The air reeked of mold and rot. Yet tonight, this corpse of a building had been given new life—the life of death.

Marcus stood on the front steps, his gaze sweeping the surroundings with hawk-like sharpness. He wore a charcoal suit over body armor, two handguns holstered at his waist. Under the moonlight, his features were cold and hard, eyes glittering with barely concealed anticipation and wariness.

"Report." Felix emerged from the shadows, voice kept extremely low.

"All sniper positions confirmed, sir. Twelve shooters covering a three-hundred-meter radius around the church, all vantage points controlled. Fifty ground troops dispersed through the ruins, another twenty on standby inside. Surveillance equipment disabled, communications encrypted. We can cut external signals at any moment."

Marcus nodded, fingers unconsciously tapping the gun at his waist—his habit when nervous. He turned back toward the church interior, where emergency lighting cast the ruined nave in sickly yellow shadows. "And Quincy?"

"Not yet. Ten minutes until the scheduled time." Felix paused, unease creeping into his tone. "Sir, I can't shake the feeling this is too smooth. Will Quincy actually show? Or is this..."

"Already panicking?" Marcus interrupted with a cold laugh. "You think I haven't considered this might be a trap?" He gestured toward the distant darkness. "But you know what's happening right now? Our people are infiltrating Sullivan's estate. While Quincy meets with me here, that's when their security is weakest."

His voice dropped, carrying a hint of satisfaction. "Even if the assassins can't kill Gabriel, they can take Isabella. When that happens, whatever games Quincy's playing, I'll have all the leverage." He paused, eyes flashing with something vicious. "And Douglas, that fool—thinks freezing my accounts will force me to heel? Once I take Sullivan's territory, his financial empire will be mine too."

Felix seemed convinced, nodding slowly. "Understood, sir. Then I'll—"

"Car coming." Marcus raised his hand, gaze locking on approaching headlights in the distance.

A black armored vehicle stopped before the church. The door opened. Quincy stepped out, dressed in dark tactical gear, expression cold and hard, eyes sharp as blades. He surveyed the surroundings, mouth twisting into a sardonic smile—clearly he'd expected Marcus to have the place locked down tight.

Marcus moved forward, his face taking on an almost cordial expression, as if they were merely here for an ordinary business meeting. "Quincy, welcome—"

"Save it." Quincy cut him off coldly. "I'm not here for your bullshit, Donovan. How do you plan to prove you're serious about this partnership?"

Marcus's smile froze for an instant before smoothing back into place. He drew a deep breath, gesturing toward the church entrance. "Patience. Come inside first. Then we'll discuss details."

Three kilometers away, Gabriel sat in the modified command vehicle, calmly watching a bank of monitors. He wore black tactical gear, an earpiece feeding him audio from the microphone Quincy wore. On the screens, orange-red thermal imaging clearly displayed every one of Marcus's snipers and ground troops around the church, like insects under glass.

"Boss, Quincy's entered the church." Aiden reported quietly behind him. "All our people are in position. All of Marcus's sniper locations locked. We can eliminate them at any time."

Gabriel didn't respond, only nodded slightly, gaze still fixed on the screens, fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the armrest—his habit when highly focused. Through the earpiece came sounds from inside the church: footsteps, murmurs, the scrape of chairs being dragged.

"Ready?" he asked quietly.

"Standing by." Aiden answered. "Douglas confirmed Marcus's communication system can be severed at any moment. His reinforcements... won't be coming."

A cold gleam flashed through Gabriel's eyes. "Good. Wait for my signal."

Inside the church nave, the decay was even worse than the exterior suggested. Parts of the vaulted ceiling had collapsed, exposing night sky and starlight. Shattered marble tiles littered the floor, weeds forcing through the cracks. Stone pillars bore faded Biblical inscriptions, most now illegible. The altar had long vanished, leaving only an empty platform.

Marcus's men had set up emergency lights around the central space, their yellow glow barely pushing back the darkness. Two chairs faced each other across a crude wooden table.

Marcus sat first, crossing one leg over the other, posture relaxed as if in his own living room. He lit a cigar, drew deeply, and exhaled smoke slowly. "Sit, Quincy. No need to be tense. We're here to discuss partnership, not start a firefight."

Quincy didn't sit immediately. He surveyed the space, gaze lingering on the armed figures half-hidden in shadow, then finally pulled out the chair and sat, posture still rigid, hands flat on the table surface, eyes alert.

"You're cautious." Marcus smiled. "I like that. In our line of work, those who aren't careful don't last long." He tapped ash from the cigar. "Though you don't need to worry so much. I agreed to your terms. I won't go back on my word."

"Is that so?" Quincy's tone was flat. "Then why do you have so many snipers positioned around this church? Not to mention those ground troops hidden in the ruins."

Marcus's smile froze briefly before recovering. "Standard security measures. After all, I can't be certain you genuinely want to cooperate, can I?" His tone shifted to something more serious. "But I can guarantee this—as long as you prove your sincerity, I'll give you everything you want. Control of the Sullivan family. Territory. Resources."

Quincy offered no response, only stared at him with unreadable eyes.

The silence made Marcus uneasy. He took another pull from the cigar before speaking again. "You're talented, Quincy. I've always known that. Gabriel only holds his position because of you—your tactical mind, execution, loyalty. All top-tier." He leaned forward, gaze carrying temptation. "But have you ever considered why you should remain subordinate? Why risk your life for Gabriel while he enjoys all the glory and power?"

"What are you suggesting?" Quincy's voice remained cold.

"I'm suggesting you deserve better." Marcus's tone dropped, becoming seductive. "Partner with me, and I'll give you what you've earned. The Sullivan family, the territory, the rules of the underground—all yours to set. No more taking orders, no more bearing the consequences of someone else's decisions. You'll be a true king."

Quincy was silent for a long time before speaking. "Your offer is tempting, Donovan. But how do I know you won't turn on me? Won't do to me what you did to your father and brothers?"

A flash of cold passed through Marcus's eyes, quickly masked by his smile. "Because I need you. I'm not a fool. I know I can't control this city's underworld alone. I need a capable, ambitious partner. And you, Quincy, are the perfect choice."

The words had barely left his mouth when a violent explosion tore through the night, the shockwave strong enough to make the monitors in the command vehicle flicker. On screen, the entire church shuddered violently. Stone fragments rained down like hail, emergency lights died, plunging the nave into darkness. Fire erupted from the eastern wall, illuminating terrified faces.

"What the hell?!" Marcus's voice came through the earpiece, sharp and furious. Gabriel watched him surge to his feet on thermal imaging, hand flying to his gun. "Is this your doing?!"

"Are you insane?!" Quincy had also leaped up, diving behind the overturned table for cover. "If I'd planned this, I'd have blown myself up too!"