The Rise Of The Forgotten King.

Chapter 6

I drove until the sun rose behind me and dipped low in front again. Twelve agonizing hours passed with only coffee stops, piss breaks, and the steady throb in my shoulder that refused to let me sleep. Every mile was a reminder that time was moving faster than I was and Noah’s life was ticking away with every turn of the wheel. Cars passed and disappeared into the night, each one stopping somewhere until I was alone again on the road.

Just after nine at night, I rolled into the half-lit parking lot of the Grand Meridian Hotel. Its cracked fluorescent sign had seen better days, just like me. I had stayed here countless times, and though the place looked older, it was still alive and still humming with people who didn’t know or care what battles I’d fought to get here.

I opened the trunk, pulled the duffel, and walked inside. Marco, the concierge, looked up from his newspaper, and for a moment, his eyes widened like he’d seen a phantom. Then recognition hit, and a slow smile spread across his face.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Look what the wind blew in today.” He slid a key across the counter, room 412, same as always. “Good to see you breathing, my good friend.”

I dropped five hundred on the ledger. “Nobody knows I’m here. Not the cops, not your cousins, not even God himself. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Marco said, making the bills vanish like a magician. “Walls don’t talk in my place and you know that.”

“Good.” I tucked the key into my pocket.

“Been a while,” he added, lowering his voice. “Rumors said you were dead.”

“Rumors say a lot of things.” I turned toward the hallway. The air smelled of old carpet, cigarette smoke, and the kind of silence only criminals respected.

“Welcome home,” Marco called after me.

“Good to be home,” I muttered, almost out of habit, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. My boots echoed with each step because even here, in the one place that never changed, I wasn’t naïve enough to let my guard drop.

Room 412 smelled the same: mothballs, stale air, and old memories I couldn’t quite shake. I showered, changed into black pants, a black shirt, and a black blazer. I put on a fake beard and colored contacts lens then I went ahead to use hair wax mixed with whatever Marco kept under the counter for “special guests” and applied on my head, turning me into someone unrecognizable. I was ready to disappear into a crowd if I had to.

By eleven, I was slipping through the connecting tunnel into the Meridian Casino. The place was unchanged: desperate faces feeding machines that never paid and cigarettes burning in ashtrays. I kept my head down, counting every step, until I reached the high limit salon at the back.

Vincent “Vinnie” Russo sat at his private table, stacks of purple chips neatly arranged in front of him. He looked calm and undisturbed and for a second, I almost envied the simplicity of that. He was one of the Ten Heads before the council divided. Vinnie had always had eyes everywhere and most importantly, he was on my side. 

I pulled out the chair opposite him and sat, voice low over the faint jazz.

“Long time no see, Vinnie.”

His head snapped up, and I saw the shock as recognition hit him. “Ghost?” he whispered. “Is that really you under that?”

“In the flesh.”

He waved the dealer away and leaned forward, eyes sharp. “It’s been a long fucking time, kid. What brings you to my table?”

“I know you know, Vinnie,” I said. “The guys on the street are deaf, blind, and dumb, but I know you’re not. I know you know exactly why I’m here.”

He studied me for a long moment, then sighed. “I see you’ve been digging.”

“Shouldn’t I?” I asked, my voice low, steady, but carrying the weight of exhaustion and anger. Every word I spoke reminded him that I hadn’t been idle.

He spread his hands, admitting the obvious. “Fair point. You always did have a way of making sure nothing stayed buried for long.”

“Where’s my brother?”

Vinnie glanced around, his eyes sharp despite the dim light of the casino, then met my gaze with a seriousness I hadn’t seen on his face in years. “I don’t know the exact address, but Van Cleef signed the order.”

A cold chill traveled down my spine. Van Cleef had never wanted me out.

“Keep talking,” I said, voice tense, muscles tightening.

“There are new players from Montréal and Chicago,” he continued cautiously, “and they’re pushing hard, trying to wipe the old families off the map. Cities are being lost, and Van Cleef thinks the only man who can handle this situation… is you.”

“So he took my brother?” My voice was quieter, but sharper than intended.

“The organization believes death can’t keep you in the ground.” He gave a tired, thin smile. “They took Noah to bring you back into the fold.”

“That’s what this circus is about? They want me on a leash again?”

“Pretty much,” he admitted, the words heavy with guilt.

“Then why not just ask?”

Vinnie laughed bitterly, a dry, humorless sound. “You made damn sure everyone understood retirement wasn’t negotiable. You killed the man nobody thought was accessible just to prove your point. Van Cleef knew begging wouldn’t cut it, Ghost. He used your weakness, and you walked right into the trap.”

I leaned back, digesting the words. Every step, every move I had made to save Noah had been predicted, mapped, and anticipated.

“Well,” I said quietly, voice almost a whisper, “I’m here now. He successfully pulled me out. Where do I find Cleef?”

“He’s not in the country right now,” Vinnie whispered, eyes darting around the room. “But tomorrow night, the Royal York in Toronto charity gala is happening. All the leaders will be there for appearances. That’s your best shot.”

I held his gaze, letting the weight of the plan settle in my chest like a stone.

“But you have to be careful,” he added, leaning in. “Half the continent is looking for you. That bounty went continental this morning. Ten million just to bring you in alive.”

I reached over, picked up his glass of red wine in front of him, and drained it in one pull, letting the liquid burn down my throat before setting the empty glass down. “It was good talking to you, old friend,” I said, voice steady, hiding the adrenaline in my chest.

Vinnie shook his head slowly. “Good to have you back, Ghost. And… try not to burn the whole town down.” 

His warning carried weight, and I let a small smirk slip, though my mind was already racing with the plan, possibilities, risks and every shadow that could be waiting for me tomorrow.

Back in room 412, I stripped the disguise, cleaned the Glock, and laid out clothes for tomorrow. Toronto was six hours away and I was going to get Noah. And anyone who stood in my way was about to find out why they called me Ghost.

I sat on the edge of the bed for a long minute, shoulder throbbing like a red-hot spike, and let myself imagine the vulnerability of the past few hours. The way my body had betrayed me with pain that refused to relent was a sharp reminder that I was human and every move carried a cost. That memory stayed with me like a silent fuel for the recklessness and precision I would need tomorrow.

I cleaned my Glock again almost like a ritual and checked every mag. Tomorrow, every second would count.

And God help anyone standing between me and my brother.