Donald slid the gun across the white tablecloth. It stopped perfectly in front of me, barrel pointing at Marco.
"Pick it up."
Glock 19. Fifteen round magazine. Effective range 50 meters. At this distance, even a novice couldn't miss.
"Why?"
"Because I asked nicely." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Pick it up and make a choice. Shoot Marco or drink your wine."
Classic forced choice scenario. In Kandahar, they called it 'the devil's fork.' No good options, only revealing ones.
I studied the setup. The wine glasses were positioned precisely—mine slightly forward, easier to reach. The gun's angle favored a right-handed draw toward Marco. Donald had thought this through.
Truth serum in the wine. Probably sodium pentothal derivative. Non-lethal but effective. He wants answers, not bodies.
"This is insane," Marco muttered.
"Shut up," Donald snapped. "Julian. Choose."
I picked up the gun. Muscle memory from a thousand operations kicked in—check chamber, assess weight, index along the frame.
Six pounds trigger pull. Factory standard. One in the chamber, full magazine. He's serious.
"Interesting choices," I said. "But you forgot option three."
I aimed at Donald.
His smile widened. "There it is. The real Julian finally shows up."
No flinch. No pupil dilation. He expected this. Wanted it.
"Put the gun down," Marco said nervously. "Both of you, stop this."
"No." Donald leaned back. "I want to see what baby brother does when pushed."
[System Analysis: Calculating Outcomes...]
[Option 1: Shoot Donald - 34% survival]
[Option 2: Shoot Marco - 67% survival]
[Option 3: Drink wine - 95% survival]
[Truth Serum Immunity Active: 23:47:32]
The system agrees with my assessment. Donald wouldn't make himself the lowest probability. There's backup close.
I set the gun down and picked up my wine glass.
"Interesting choice," Donald murmured.
I drank. The bitter aftertaste confirmed my analysis—definitely sodium pentothal. In my past life, I'd been dosed with worse during SERE training.
"Now," Donald leaned forward, "tell me, brother. Are you really Julian Marino?"
"Yes." True from a certain point of view. This body is Julian Marino.
"What happened three weeks ago?"
"I got better."
"Better how?"
"Better at everything."
His jaw tightened. The serum should have me babbling by now. He's realizing something's wrong.
"And Sonia Ricci? What is she to you?"
"Everything." Also true. She's my path to legitimacy in this world.
"Did you know what she was when you took her from Marco?"
"I knew she was wasted on him."
Marco flinched.
Donald sat back. "The serum should be working by now."
"Maybe you got a bad batch," I suggested.
"Or maybe," his eyes narrowed, "you're not entirely human anymore."
Closer to the truth than he knows.
"We're done here," I said, standing.
"Sit down."
"No."
Donald's hand moved toward his jacket. Shoulder holster. Probably a .38 snub nose. Close quarters weapon.
Marco grabbed his wrist. "Enough. Dad's outside. You really want to explain gunshots?"
Smart. Marco's playing peacekeeper but also self-preservation. He knows he's expendable if this escalates.
Donald shook him off but didn't draw. "This isn't over."
"It never is with family." I headed for the door. "Enjoy your wine, brothers."
---
The main party continued. I counted exits (four), security positions (twelve visible), and potential weapons (everything in a Marino party could kill). Old habits.
The Don waved me over. "Julian! How was dinner with your brothers?"
"Educational."
He laughed. "Good! Family should challenge each other."
If only you knew your eldest son just tried to interrogate me.
I mingled strategically. Twenty minutes by the bar to establish presence. Ten minutes with cousins to seem normal. All while tracking Donald's movements.
[System Warning: Hostile Intent Detected]
[Source: Multiple]
Three sources. Donald obviously. But who else?
"Brother-in-law." Honey voice. Calculated approach from my blind spot.
I turned. Megan Marino, Donald's wife. Gold dress, champagne flute, predator smile.
"Megan."
"Donald asked me to show you something. In private." Her fingers traced the rim of her glass. "He said you'd appreciate it."
Honey trap. Classic. In Chechnya, they used younger women. Donald's using his own wife. Either desperate or confident.
"Lead the way."
Sometimes the best way out of a trap is through it.
She guided me upstairs. I memorized the route—seventeen steps, turn right, third door on the left. The study smelled of leather and old secrets.
The door clicked shut.
No lock. They want this to look consensual.
"So," I said, "what did Donald want you to show me?"
"This." She set down her champagne and moved closer. "He said you've been stressed. That you might need... comfort."
She's trained. The approach is too smooth. Probably not her first time.
I caught her wrists. "Interesting offer."
"I'm an interesting woman." She pressed against me. "Donald doesn't have to know everything."
"Doesn't he?" I squeezed harder. "A faithful wife wouldn't do this."
Her mask slipped. "Donald and I have an understanding—"
"No. He paid you to do this." *Apply pressure to the radial nerve. Pain but no permanent damage.* "Who else knows?"
"You're hurting me—"
"Answer."
"Just Donald!" She gasped. "He paid me to seduce you, get evidence—"
I'd been recording on my phone since we entered. Now I had what I needed.
"Thank you."
I drew the ceramic knife from my cufflink—Donald's gift from the gun test, how poetic—and drove it between her ribs. Angled up, piercing the heart. She dropped without a sound.
[Violent Sin +50]
[Witness Eliminated]
Death in three seconds. Cleaner than she deserved.
Footsteps in the hallway. Multiple sets. Heavy. Security, not guests.
They were listening. This whole thing was monitored.
I quickly transferred the audio to a small recording device I always carried—old habits from my past life. Then I texted Chen: "Activate contingency seven."
Her response was immediate: "Understood."
Time for the performance.
"Help!" I shouted. "Something's wrong! Help!"
The door burst open. Donald led three guards.
He saw Megan and stopped cold.
"She attacked me," I stammered. "When I refused her, she pulled a knife. I defended myself—"
"With what?" Donald's voice was ice.
I held up the ceramic blade. "The cufflink knife. From your gift set. She must have activated it when she grabbed me."
Let him process that. His weapon. His gift. His setup turned against him.
One of the guards checked Megan's pulse. "She's gone, sir."
"I recorded it," I said, pulling out the small device with shaking hands. "The things she said—"
Donald snatched the recorder, playing the audio. Megan's voice filled the room: "He paid me to seduce you, get evidence—"
His face went through several shades of pale.
"You recorded my wife's confession." Not a question.
"I always record private meetings. Habit from... from when grandfather was alive. He said never trust family alone."
Truth mixed with lies. The best kind.
Donald pocketed the recording device. "She landed safely, you know."
"What?"
"Sonia. Checked into the Fountaine in Miami. Posted beach photos an hour ago."
"I don't understand—"
"You sent her away this morning. Almost like you knew something would happen tonight."
He's fishing. He suspects but can't prove anything.
"Donald, your wife just tried to—"
"Get out." Quiet. Controlled. Dangerous. "Leave now. Before I forget we're family."
The guards shifted, hands near weapons.
"Donald—"
"NOW!"
[Quest Updated: Survive the Night]
[Donald's Suspicion: Maximum]
[Threat Level: CRITICAL]
I backed out slowly, maintaining eye contact. Never show your back to a predator.
The guards escorted me through the house. No goodbye to the Don. No explanations. Just a tactical withdrawal.
---
Outside, the valet brought my car. I tipped him and checked the vehicle—mirrors, wheel wells, undercarriage. Nothing visible.
But Donald's too smart for obvious bombs.
I drove carefully, senses hyperalert. Five miles out, my Enhanced Perception caught it—engine knock that wasn't there before. Subtle weight distribution change.
[System Alert: Explosive Device Detected]
[Location: Under Driver's Seat]
[Detonation: Proximity Triggered - 500 meters]
Mercury switch probably. Armed when I sat down. Brilliant
Highway speed. No shoulder. No exit.
[450 meters]
Calculate: Seventy mph equals 31 meters per second. Fifteen seconds to detonation.
[400 meters]
Cars everywhere. Civilians. Unacceptable collateral.
[300 meters]
"System. The death prevention card."
[Confirmed. Card Ready.]
[200 meters]
Wait for the gap. Minimize casualties.
[100 meters]
Now
[CARD ACTIVATED]
I yanked the wheel hard right, launching off the highway into empty field. The explosion came mid-air.
Fire. Pain. Death.
Then resurrection.
[Death Reversed]
[Respawning in 3... 2... 1...]
I gasped awake on the roadside, watching my car burn in the field. No other vehicles hit. Mission successful.
[Sin Points +100: Survived Assassination]
[Level Progress: 45%]
[New Skill Unlocked: Death's Memory - Retain information from fatal moments]
My phone buzzed in my pocket. One new message.
Donald: "Welcome to the family business, little brother. - D"
He knows I survived. He wants me to know he knows.
This isn't over.