Ron Donaldo: Rise Of The Apex Don

Chapter 40

The cold, heavy rain poured down on the dark roof of the Grand Meridian Hotel. 

Ron Donaldo lay flat on the hard, wet concrete. His breathing was heavy and slow. A pool of dark, warm blood was spreading out from his left shoulder. The bullet from Vane’s gun had torn straight through his expensive black coat and buried itself deep in his muscle. The pain was absolute fire. It felt like a hot, burning nail was stuck inside his body. 

Jax, the giant, silent fighter, dropped to his knees next to Ron. Jax’s massive hands hovered over Ron’s shoulder. Jax did not speak, but his dark eyes were full of terrible fear. He did not want his King to die. 

"I am fine, Jax," Ron grunted. His voice was tight with pain, but it was strong. "Do not panic. It missed the bone."

A few feet away, The Director was lying on the wet roof, holding his broken knee. The old man laughed. It was a sick, wet sound. 

"You are bleeding, Warlord," The Director spat. "You are just a man in a suit. When the Syndicate comes, they will not shoot you in the shoulder. They will cut you into tiny pieces."

Ron ignored the old man. He reached over with his good right hand and grabbed the edge of Jax’s thick jacket. 

"Pull me up," Ron commanded. 

Jax carefully grabbed Ron by his right arm and pulled. 

Ron stood up. The world spun in dizzy circles for a second. His left arm hung completely useless at his side. Blood dripped steadily from his fingers, falling into the puddles of rain on the roof. Drip. Drip. Drip. 

But Ron stood tall. His spine was perfectly straight. He looked down at The Director. His blue eyes were as cold as winter ice. 

"You are right, Director," Ron said softly. "I am just a man. But I am the man who broke your empire in three days. You are nothing now."

The heavy metal door on the roof suddenly burst open. 

General Silas Vance ran out into the rain, holding his heavy sniper rifle. He saw the blood on Ron’s coat and stopped in his tracks. 

"My King!" General Vance yelled, running forward. "You are hit! We need a doctor immediately!"

"The mission comes first, General," Ron said, waving his good hand. "Report. What happened in the forest? How did Vane get here?"

General Vance looked extremely angry. His scarred face turned bright red. "I am sorry, Sir. It was a disaster. We locked Vane, Theresa, Marcus Thorne, and Dr. Aris in the back of the heavy transport truck, exactly as you ordered."

"And?" Ron asked. 

"Vane had a hidden tool," the General explained. "A tiny, acid-filled pen hidden in his shoe. He melted the electronic locks on the truck doors from the inside. When my men stopped the truck to check the tires, Vane kicked the doors open. He used a smoke grenade. He grabbed Theresa and escaped into the dark woods."

"And what about Marcus and Aris?" Ron asked. 

"They ran away too, Sir," General Vance said, looking down at his boots in shame. "In the confusion, Marcus Thorne ran down the highway back toward the city. We tried to catch him, but we had to hide from the National Guard helicopters. Marcus got away."

The Director laughed again. "You see, Apex? You cannot hold water in your hands. It all slips away. Marcus is free."

Ron did not look angry. He did not yell at General Vance. Instead, a very small, dangerous smile touched the corners of Ron’s mouth. 

"Do not apologize, General," Ron said calmly. "Vane escaping is a problem. But Marcus Thorne escaping is perfect. I wanted him to run."

General Vance looked confused. "You wanted him to escape, Sir? Why?"

"Because," Ron said, wincing slightly as a fresh wave of pain hit his shoulder. "A cornered rat always runs back to its hole to hide its cheese. Marcus is running back to Sterling Tech. He thinks he can save his secret money before the FBI freezes the physical safes. He thinks he is smart. But he is running directly into my final trap."

Ron looked at Jax. "Pick up The Director. Put him in the truck. It is time to finish Marcus Thorne."

Thirty minutes later, Ron was sitting inside the back of the black armored command truck. The truck was parked in a dark, empty alley near the Sterling Tech building. 

The truck was warm and dry. Silas, the hacker, was sitting at his computer screens, typing incredibly fast. 

A medical doctor from the Iron Legion was working on Ron’s shoulder. The doctor used a pair of long silver tweezers. 

"Hold still, Sir," the doctor whispered. "This will hurt."

Ron bit down hard on a small piece of leather. 

The doctor pulled the tweezers. A sharp, terrible sound of wet tearing filled the quiet truck. The doctor pulled the bloody silver bullet out of Ron’s shoulder and dropped it into a metal bowl. Clink. 

Ron let out a long, heavy breath. Sweat poured down his pale face. 

The doctor quickly poured strong alcohol over the open wound to clean it. It burned like fire. Then, he wrapped thick white bandages tightly around Ron’s chest and shoulder. 

"The bullet went clean through the muscle," the doctor said. "You will live. But you cannot use that arm for a month. If you fight, you will tear the stitches."

"Thank you, doctor," Ron said. He put his black shirt back on, leaving his left arm resting carefully against his chest. 

Ron walked slowly over to Silas. He looked at the glowing computer screens. 

"Is the trap set, Silas?" Ron asked.