The Son-In-Law’s 99 Days Of Deception

Chapter 7

“This is entertaining, isn't it?” Nolan barked at Vesper, who had a smug face.

His men were going down in numbers and Vesper was just going to sit and watch? “I am Nolan Wong. The Wong family has more money and influence than you could dream of. You have no idea what you've just involved yourself in." Nolan's face darkened, pointing at Rowoon.

"Then perhaps you should have stayed home." He replied.

Nolan roared and charged.

He was bigger than Rowoon, and he moved faster than his size suggested. His fist caught Rowoon across the jaw, sending him crashing into the edge of the desk.

Pain exploded through his face.

Before Rowoon could recover, Nolan seized his shirt and slammed him against the wall.

"You little bastard!"

Rowoon struggled to free himself.

Nolan drove a fist into his stomach.

Air left Rowoon's lungs.

He doubled over, but Nolan held him upright by his collar.

"I'm going to kill you."

Rowoon's eyes narrowed. "You talk too much."

He drove his knee into Nolan's abdomen.

Nolan's grip loosened just enough for Rowoon to twist away. He struck Nolan across the face, then shoved him towards the desk.

Nolan stumbled but recovered quickly, swinging a heavy fist at Rowoon's head but he blocked it with his forearm.

The impact sent pain shooting through his injured shoulder.

He couldn't keep taking hits like that.

Nolan drew back his fist again and Rowoon stepped aside at the last moment.

Nolan's punch struck the desk. Before he could pull his arm free, Rowoon caught him around the waist and drove him into the wall.

The impact knocked the breath from Nolan's lungs.

He struck him once across the jaw.

Nolan staggered.

A second blow sent him crashing to the floor.

For a moment, neither man moved.

Then Nolan rolled onto his side, coughing and clutching his ribs.

Rowoon stood over him, his chest heaving.

"Still think I'm the one with a death wish?"

Nolan looked up at him with naked hatred.

"You've made a very powerful enemy."

Rowoon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grabbed a gun.

“Don't kill him.”

He raised his head to see Vesper talking from his comfort chair.

The remaining mercenaries—bleeding, broken, and utterly shattered—dropped their weapons. They immediately hit the floor, scrambling to their knees in absolute terror.

“Please, have mercy on us! I beg you!”

“Forgive us, we didn't know—”

“I have children! Spare me!”

They wailed, not daring to lift their eyes from the floor.

One by one, Nolan's surviving men began backing towards the entrance. Two of them dragged their injured companions with them.

Nolan struggled to his feet, supported by one of his men.

His eyes remained fixed on Rowoon.

"This isn't over."

Rowoon tilted his head.

"Then come back when you can stand straight."

Nolan's expression promised violence.

Moments later, the silence was broken by the quiet shuffle of Vesper’s private cleanup crew moving into the office to clear the bodies.

Rowoon grabbed a clean cloth from the desk, wiping the blood from his knuckles, and turned toward the door to leave.

Vesper’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Instead of chasing ghosts looking for Benjamin's killer... why don't you give it up and join my inner circle?” Vesper walked slowly toward him, pulling out a fresh cigar.

“I’m only offering this because you're his brother.”

Rowoon paused. He turned slowly, taking the cigar from Vesper’s fingers. He struck a match, lit the tip, took a slow drag, and blew a thick cloud of grey smoke straight into Vesper's face.

“You want me in your gang?”

“Yes. Drop the vengeance. I already took care of the animal who did it; I ripped him apart myself,” Vesper explained. When Rowoon’s expression remained neutral, he nodded toward the door. “Come on. Let me introduce you to the family.”

Ten minutes later, Rowoon stood at the front of the grand hall, looking out over fifteen distinct crews of hardened enforcers.

“My name is Rowoon Machado,” He said smoothly.

The response was scattered applause.

Some men clapped politely. Others barely looked up.

Jethro raised a skeptical eyebrow, crossing his arms. “You can do better than that for a welcome. Clap louder for our new blood.”

At the back of the room, Zane leaned over, lowering his voice as he whispered to Vesper: “Boss... are you really sure about this? You're really trusting this guy?”

Vesper kept his eyes fixed on Rowoon, a dark, calculating smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Not yet,” Vesper murmured softly.

“Whatever he is... what better way to find out than to keep him breathing down my neck? You know what they say: ‘Keep your friends close, and your enemies within arm's reach.’”

By evening, they had returned to the temple.

Vesper's office occupied the same building, making it easy for members of the Gospel to move between their operations and the evening mass without drawing attention.

From the outside, there was little to distinguish them from ordinary worshippers.

Killian found that particularly amusing.

"We will be reading from Romans, chapter two."

The preacher's voice carried through the temple.

Killian took his seat among the congregation, opened the holy book in front of him, and pretended to follow along. Around him, heads bowed over scripture. A few people clutched their crosses, their lips moving in silent prayer.

He studied their faces before directing his attention towards the altar.

The preacher was a younger cleric with sharp, nervous eyes and a voice that lacked true conviction.

It wasn't the Priest.

Damn it.

How difficult could it be to meet one man?

Apparently, very.

The service continued. Killian sat through the readings, the sermon, and the prayers, growing increasingly impatient with every passing minute.

When the congregation was asked to pray, the room descended into a chorus of murmured pleas.

Even Zane closed his eyes.

"Be with me, O Lord," he whispered.

Killian stared at him.

What a joke.

He shifted his attention to Vesper, who hadn't bowed his head. His arms remained crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on the preacher with an intensity that seemed entirely unrelated to the sermon until the final amen echoed through the ceiling.

People began filing out of the temple.

​“Come on. There’s someone I want you to meet,” Vesper muttered, standing up abruptly.