Chapter 6 - Whispers of the Past
Naturally, Marcus's sudden intervention did not sit well with Victor Vance. Two days after the Carters moved into their new, safe, sunlit apartment in Lincoln Park, Marcus received an invitation to a meeting at an upscale steakhouse downtown—Vance's preferred territory.
The restaurant was closed to the public for the afternoon. Marcus walked in alone, refusing to let Frank or his guards accompany him inside. He feared no one, and he wanted Vance to see that clearly.
Victor Vance was sitting at a corner booth, cutting into a rare ribeye steak. He was a loud, boisterous man covered in gold jewelry, a stark contrast to Marcus's tailored, understated elegance.
"Marcus!" Vance bellowed, spreading his arms wide. "The King of the Loop himself! Pull up a chair. Have a drink."
Marcus sat down across from him, declining the wine offered by a nervous waiter. "Let's skip the pleasantries, Victor. You're upset about the Carter debt."
Vance’s smile soured, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Fifty grand, Marcus. The guy owed me fifty grand, plus interest. Then suddenly your boys show up, hand my collectors a check for the principal, and tell us the account is closed. That's a breach of etiquette, don't you think? You're protecting a deadbeat."
"The debt is settled," Marcus said evenly. "You got your principal back. Consider the interest a tax for operating in my city without my explicit blessing."
Vance slammed his fork down, leaning across the table. "He was my play, Vale! You don't get to swoop in and play savior just because the guy's wife is pretty. Word on the street is you've got a soft spot for her. Is that what this is? Marcus Vale is getting soft in his old age?"
The air in the room grew instantly colder. Marcus didn't raise his voice, but the intense glare in his dark eyes made Vance instinctively lean back a fraction of an inch.
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"If you ever speak about her again, or if any of your low-lives step foot near Lincoln Park, I won't just close your accounts, Victor. I will dismantle everything you own piece by piece, and I will bury you under the concrete of the new stadium. Do we understand each other?"
Vance swallowed hard, the bravado draining from him just as it had from Miller the week before. He nodded slowly. "Message received, Vale. The debt is clear."
