The Paralyzed Mafia Boss Thought She Was Just Another Caregiver

They moved through the steel corridors of the warship like specters of vengeance.

Desmond was an engine of brutal efficiency. Despite his severe blood loss, his reflexes were lethal. Every turn of a corridor met a rapid double-tap to an enemy sentry before an alarm could be sounded. Sadi watched his back with surgical precision, dropping two technicians who attempted to reach the primary alarm panel.

They reached the armored blast doors of the bridge on the fifth deck.

Through the reinforced viewport, Sadi could see six senior officers in immaculate white uniforms, standing around a holographic tactical table displaying satellite feeds of the California coast.

In the center of the bridge, sitting calmly in the captain's chair, was a man Sadi had not expected to see.

It was not Julian.

It was Liam Gallagher—Desmond’s cousin, the man who had supposedly been assassinated in Milan six months ago, the very death that had triggered the collapse of the syndicate's European council.

"Liam..." Desmond hissed, his blood turning to ice.

"He's alive?" Sadi whispered in disbelief.

"He didn't die in Milan," Desmond realized, a bitter, furious realization washing over him. "He faked his execution to clear the board. He was the one who brought Julian into the syndicate. He was the inside architect all along."

Desmond did not hesitate. He placed a breaching charge on the door's hydraulic hinges, stepped back, and triggered the detonator.

The blast tore the armored door off its tracks, sending it crashing into the bridge.

Smoke and blinding light filled the control room. Desmond charged through the breach, firing from the hip. Two officers dropped before they could unholster their sidearms. Sadi swept right, her rifle barking twice, taking down the navigation officer who reached for the emergency weapon rack.

Liam Gallagher sprang from the captain's chair, drawing a customized chrome automatic.

"Desmond!" Liam shouted, his face twisting in aristocratic sneer. "You crippled bastard! You should have stayed in your wheelchair!"

Liam fired. The round grazed Desmond’s cheek, drawing a line of fire. Desmond closed the distance in a single, terrifying stride, ignoring the gunfire, slamming into Liam with the full, unyielding weight of his fury.

They crashed into the glass tactical table, shattering it into thousands of luminescent shards.

Liam was younger and uninjured, but Desmond fought with the primal ferocity of a dying god. He pinned Liam’s gun hand to the deck with his boot, his left fist driving into Liam’s jaw with bone-breaking force.

"You betrayed the family," Desmond snarled, his hand wrapping around Liam’s throat, slamming his head against the steel decking. "You betrayed my father. You brought butchers to my home."

"Your father was a dinosaur!" Liam choked out, blood pouring from his broken nose. "The syndicate needed a new order! Julian and I... we are the future!"

"There is no future for you," Sadi’s voice cut through the air like a cold blade.

She stood over them, her rifle aimed directly between Liam’s eyes, her finger steady on the trigger.

Liam stared up into her cold, merciless gaze, his bravado finally crumbling into pure terror. "Wait... Sadi... please... you're a caregiver... you took an oath..."

"I took an oath to heal the sick," Sadi whispered, her voice devoid of mercy. "Not to spare the vipers."

She pulled the trigger.

Liam’s body jerked once, then lay still on the shattered glass of the bridge.

Silence fell over the command deck, broken only by the steady, mechanical voice of the ship's automated navigation system:

`WARNING: AUTONOMOUS WEAPONS LOCK ENGAGED.`

`TARGET: SAN FRANCISCO BAY FINANCIAL DISTRICT.`

`TIME TO LAUNCH: 03 MINUTES, 00 SECONDS.`

Desmond staggered toward the main helm console, clutching his bleeding side. "The firing sequence... it was pre-programmed before we breached the bridge. Liam locked the manual abort."

"Can you stop it?" Sadi asked frantically, rushing to his side, supporting his weight as his legs began to buckle.

"The system requires an executive biometric confirmation from the primary sovereign seat," Desmond gasped, his vision swimming with dark spots as hypovolemic shock began to claim him. "Arthur is dead. Julian is dead. Liam is dead."

"What about you?" Sadi asked, her hands frantic as she searched the console. "You’re the sovereign heir!"

"Arthur stripped my biometric clearance when he locked himself in the pod thirty years ago," Desmond groaned, his skin turning paper-white. "My hand won't register on this console."

The countdown timer clicked downward with mechanical indifference: