Bound to the calloway's heir

Callo

distasteful I was feeling at that moment. "You didn't know that you sold him out? You ratted him out, the one man who has helped put food on your table for years! He had your family on his priority list." The man's throat bobbed. "I had no choice." "Oh, you fool. There is always a choice. My father had chosen loyalty. And look what it had cost him, you bastard, his fucking life. His empire." My shoulder tensed, a sharp ache radiated from my spine as I forced myself to stand tall. I had learned on my father's dying bed that emotion was weakness. That mercy was a privilege I could no longer afford. "We do not have all evening, Zane. Let's get this over with!" Damien yelled at me, his impatience clearly visible in his tone. "Zane." Ethan's voice cut through the thick silence that followed. "We need to get out of here." I barely heard him. My fingers curled around the handle of the knife in my pocket. Its weight felt light against my fury. The anger at seeing my old man, who was an enigma of strength, reduced to nothing, filled me with rage. When my father died, I promised I would burn down every man responsible. It didn't take me another twenty-five years to understand what was at stake, and the switch from being a law-abiding citizen to a criminal had taken just a few days fueled with revenge. I had to look after my father's empire. It was what he would have wanted me to do. Armed with my friends' skills, we started with our rival's downlines, cutting off their supply chains, bleeding them dry in the market, and sending warnings about their operations. But now, I was done warning the assholes. I was ending every one of them, beginning with the one before me. He started it. He had to go first. The man must have sensed the switch in my expression because he started shaking his head frantically. "No, no, please, I beg you, Mr. Calloway, have mercy." "You brought this upon yourself. You should have thought of that before becoming a rat." In one smooth motion, I withdrew my knife. The blade caught the dim light as I moved. My fingers tightened around the chisel, the cold metal biting into my palm. For a heartbeat, I hesitated, the man's plea echoing in my ears. Then, with a swift, deliberate motion, I drew the blade across his throat. It felt easier tha