All these years, Dad only taught me how to communicate with vengeful spirits. When it came to dealing with mobsters, I honestly had no idea how to handle them.
Tony Moretti mistook my silence for fear. He slapped me hard across the face.
“Don’t play dumb with me, kid. You were pretty cocky a minute ago, weren’t you?”
A woman leaning on his shoulder laughed.
“Babe, you don’t think this kid got knocked stupid when you hit him, do you?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Emily Carter in the back seat. Crimson fangs were already sprouting at the corners of her mouth—signs she was about to transform into a vengeful spirit.
I checked the time. Less than thirty minutes before the Gate of the Underworld closed. Time was running out, and I could no longer afford to waste it.
“You dared to smash into a psychopomp’s car? Looks like your reign as the Midwest’s underworld kingpin ends tonight.”
Tony didn’t take my warning seriously.
“Psychopomp’s car? Kid, you must be hallucinating from the crash. Let me tell you something—across the entire Rust Belt, there isn’t a single car I, Tony Moretti, wouldn’t dare ram.”
I nearly laughed out loud. Ignorance wasn’t scary—what was scary was when someone didn’t even realize they had already sealed their own fate.
While Vince Moretti wasn’t looking, I secretly pulled my phone from my pocket.
“Dad, it’s me, Ethan.”
Hearing my voice, Gabriel Hale immediately asked,
“Why are you calling now? Weren’t you on assignment tonight? This spirit isn’t ordinary—you can’t afford a single mistake.”
I glanced around and lowered my voice into the receiver.
“Dad, I’m stuck on the road. And… there’s something else you need to know.”
“Your car was smashed up.”
“What did you just say?” His voice almost exploded through the phone.
“You’re not joking, are you? That’s the soul ferrying car! Who’s insane enough to touch it?”
I calmly gave him a rough account of what happened, including Emily’s situation.
My father roared,
“Send me your location right now. I’ll dispatch people immediately!”
Before I could answer, Tony noticed me. Thinking I was begging for money, he snatched the phone.
“Hey, you must be the kid’s old man, right? You’ve got twenty minutes to cough up a million, or I start chopping off your boy’s fingers, one by one.”
My dad froze for a few seconds, probably stunned by such arrogance.
“So you’re the bastard who smashed my car and threatened to cripple my son?”
Tony didn’t realize he was already doomed. He smirked.
“Damn right. Now stop wasting my time. You paying up or not?”
Even over the phone, I could feel Dad’s fury.
“Pay? A million’s too cheap. How about I send you a hundred million instead?”
“Enough to buy your life.”
Tony sneered, caught off guard that Dad wasn’t backing down.
“Old man, you think you’re hot shit? You ever even seen a hundred million in cash? If you’ve got it, I’ll take it. Bring it to 18th Street in Chicago if you dare!”
He hung up, then grabbed his woman and kissed her roughly, basking in his bravado.
