Ron Donaldo: Rise Of The Apex Don

Chapter 39

The lead FBI agent walked straight up to the Mayor and the Police Chief. He did not look friendly. 

"Mayor Higgins," the FBI agent said sharply. "We just received a massive data dump from an anonymous source. It contained verified bank records of bribery, corruption, and illegal wire fraud connected to Sterling Tech."

The Mayor held up his hands, shaking violently. "No! It is a lie! Ron Donaldo is a terrorist! He is trying to frame us!"

The FBI agent pulled a pair of silver handcuffs from his belt. 

"Tell it to the judge, Mayor," the agent said coldly. He grabbed the Mayor's wrists and clicked the handcuffs tight. "You are under arrest."

The other FBI agents moved quickly through the room, arresting the Police Chief, the corrupt judge, and several wealthy investors who were named in the stolen files. The "Recovery Gala" had turned into a mass arrest. The powerful kings of the city were being dragged away in chains, crying and screaming for their lawyers. 

Ron Donaldo’s revenge was clean, surgical, and completely legal. He had used their own dirty secrets to destroy them. 

High above the chaos of the ballroom, the roof of the Grand Meridian Hotel was dark and windy. The rain had started to fall again, cold and heavy. 

A black helicopter sat on the helipad. The engine was off. 

Ron Donaldo stood near the edge of the roof, looking down at the flashing red and blue police lights on the street below. He wore his long black coat. The wind whipped his hair around his face. 

He had won. Marcus was broken. Theresa was broken. The corrupt politicians were going to prison. His name was finally clear. The Warlord had conquered the city without firing a single bullet. 

The heavy metal door to the roof opened. 

Jax walked out into the rain. He carried The Director over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The Director was groaning in pain, holding his broken knee. 

Jax threw The Director roughly onto the wet concrete roof. 

The Director grunted loudly. He tried to crawl away, but his leg was useless. He looked up at Ron. His white hair was soaked with rain. His expensive tuxedo was ruined. 

"You think you won, Apex," The Director spat, coughing up a small amount of blood. "You think putting the Mayor in jail makes you safe?"

Ron slowly turned away from the edge of the roof. He walked toward The Director. His boots clicked softly on the wet concrete. 

"I know I won, Director," Ron said, his voice deep and calm. "You have no money. You have no friends. Your empire is completely ash."

"You are a fool," The Director laughed, though it sounded like a wet cough. "You think I act alone? You think I am the top of the pyramid?"

Ron stopped walking. His blue eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

The Director smiled a nasty, bloody smile. "I was just a manager, Ronald. I was just the man chosen to run the Oakhaven branch of the Syndicate. You did not just destroy my money today. You destroyed their money."

Ron’s heart skipped a beat. The Syndicate. 

It was a word he had heard whispered in the darkest corners of The Pit. A massive, global organization of true monsters. People who controlled entire countries. People who made The Director look like a low-level street thug. 

"They are already coming for you, Apex," The Director whispered, looking up at the black, rainy sky. "They do not use lawyers. They do not use the FBI. They use shadows. They use ghosts. And they will not stop until you and everyone you love is completely dead."

Ron stared at the broken old man. The core struggle inside him had ended, but a new, much more terrifying war was just beginning. 

Suddenly, the black helicopter on the helipad behind them roared to life. 

Whop. Whop. Whop. 

The massive rotor blades began to spin wildly, blowing heavy rain and wind across the roof. 

Ron spun around in shock. The helicopter was supposed to be empty! 

The side door of the helicopter slid open. 

Standing in the doorway was a tall, thin man wearing a plain brown suit and round glasses. 

It was Vane. The Fixer. 

Vane had escaped from General Vance’s custody in the forest. He had somehow sneaked past the National Guard, made it to the roof, and hotwired the helicopter. 

Vane looked down at Ron through the spinning rain. His face was completely boring and emotionless. He raised his hand and pointed a small, black pistol directly at Ron’s chest. 

"Checkmate, Warlord," Vane said, his flat voice echoing through a loud megaphone attached to the helicopter. 

Vane pulled the trigger. 

BANG.

A bright flash of fire erupted from the barrel of the gun. 

Ron barely had time to move. He threw himself to the side, diving toward the wet concrete. 

The bullet tore through the air. It did not hit Ron in the chest. 

It hit Ron in the left shoulder. 

The impact was like being hit by a speeding train. The force spun Ron completely around. He crashed hard onto the roof, sliding dangerously close to the edge. Terrible, burning pain exploded in his shoulder. Warm blood instantly began to soak his black coat. 

Jax roared in anger and charged toward the helicopter, raising his heavy iron pipe. 

But the helicopter was already lifting off. Vane pulled the door shut, and the black chopper disappeared into the stormy night sky. 

Ron lay on the cold, wet concrete. His vision blurred from the pain. He pressed his right hand hard against his bleeding shoulder. 

The Director laughed a wet, ugly laugh from the floor nearby. "I told you, Ronald. The real monsters are coming."

Ron closed his eyes.