He looked at the tactical officer holding the hard drives.

“We aren’t keeping these, Marcus,” Damiano said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

Marcus stared at him, confused.

“I am delivering every single byte of this data to the federal prosecutors in the Eastern District,” Damiano said.

“They have been trying to build a racketeering case against your family for ten years.”

“With these ledgers, they won’t just arrest you. They will freeze every asset, seize every property, and ruin everyone who ever took a dollar from you.”

Marcus’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

The realization of his complete, systematic ruin seemed to hit him harder than any physical blow.

“You’ll destroy your own contacts,” Marcus stammered. “Half of those names do business in your territory.”

“Then they will learn to do business elsewhere,” Damiano replied coldly.

He turned his back on Marcus, dismissing him as if he were already a ghost.

“Get her to the car,” Damiano ordered his men.

The officer who had helped me up guided me toward the door, his grip firm but gentle.