Maple Street, Palm Tree Bar.
Owen arrived a little after six, found a quiet corner, and started drinking alone.
Soft music played in the bar. He glanced at his watch—it was almost 7 PM. Bryan should be arriving soon.
Just as he was thinking this, a familiar figure appeared at the entrance. Owen waved, and Bryan spotted him and walked over.
"What are you drinking?"
"Tequila."
Owen snapped his fingers, and within moments, a waiter brought over Bryan's drink.
After the waiter left, Owen turned to Bryan and asked, "Bryan, what should I do?"
While waiting for Bryan, Owen had been thinking about this over and over. He had a vague idea.
Bryan didn't answer directly. Instead, he asked, "What do you think?"
Ever since he realized the Montell family would come after him, Owen's first thought had been to wipe them out entirely. He knew it wasn't realistic, but as long as the Montell family's current boss, Brancato Montell, was alive, he and his family would forever live under the threat of being hunted down.
So, no matter what it took, the Montell family had to disappear.
Owen had already made up his mind, but he still wanted to hear Bryan's professional opinion. Given their relationship, there was no need for pretenses. He said bluntly, "I want to take them out!"
Bryan looked at him, and Owen explained, "The Montell family won't let me go. I looked into their history and methods. Most likely, they—"
Before he could finish, Bryan cut him off. "I get it. No need to explain. If they want you dead, you kill them first. It's that simple."
"That simple?"
"Yeah. That simple."
Bryan picked up his tequila and downed the rest in one gulp. "In this world, everyone has something they want to protect. Some people protect their wealth, some their power, others their beliefs. But people like us—we protect our families.
"I completely agree with you. The Montell family won't let you go. There's no room for negotiation between you and them. Even if it weren't about Alex, they'd still have to kill you just to save face. And they'd have to do it in the most brutal way possible to maintain their reputation in the underworld."
Owen nodded. Bryan had voiced exactly what he was thinking. He had made an enemy of the Montell family, and there was no turning back.
"Don't worry, I'll help you. Whether it's the Albanians, the Colombian cartels, or anyone else—if they threaten our families, then they must die."
Owen stared at Bryan. Then, he threw back the rest of his drink in one gulp, feeling immense gratitude. He understood the risk Bryan was taking by saying, I'll help you. The Colombian cartels were on a whole different level from the Albanians.
"Thank you, Bryan."
"Don't mention it," Bryan said, waving his hand dismissively.
After a brief pause, Bryan added, "We need to plan this carefully. I need to talk to Sam and get some intel. Back in the day, when I was in France, he spent most of his time in Colombia. He knows that region well."
Owen nodded. He knew that Bryan's old crew were all former CIA. But he hadn't realized that Sam had been stationed in Colombia. Since the Julia Andrews concert incident, Owen had kept in touch with him, though not frequently.
Owen called the waiter over and ordered another round for both of them. Just then, he noticed that Bryan was staring at a bespectacled man at the bar. The man was placing a tip under his glass and getting ready to leave.
"That's it for tonight. I've got something to take care of…"
Bryan got up and followed the man out. Owen, curious, left a hundred-dollar bill on the table and followed as well.
Outside, the bespectacled man was heading to a corner of the parking lot to get his car. Bryan caught up to him and kicked him hard in the lower back, sending him staggering forward. Before the man could recover, Bryan dragged him into a nearby alley.
Owen followed. From inside the alley, he heard the sounds of punches landing and the man groaning in pain.
Bryan was beating the guy mercilessly. His glasses had fallen off, his shirt was covered in shoe prints, and he was on his knees, begging for mercy.
Bryan cursed as he landed each blow. Owen couldn't make out what he was saying. After two particularly loud screams, Bryan finally stopped, muttering a few words under his breath before stepping out of the alley.
Owen was waiting outside. Just moments ago, Bryan had been yelling in anger, but now he looked completely calm, as if nothing had happened. He was a master at controlling his emotions.
Bryan nodded at Owen. Owen fell into step beside him and asked, "What did he do to piss you off?"
Bryan pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his hands. "He didn't piss me off, but that piece of trash said something he shouldn't have during Kim's piano exam this afternoon. He made my little girl cry."
Owen knew Bryan had gone to Kim's piano exam earlier. That meant this guy had been there too. Curious, he asked, "Was he a judge?"
"No, he was just another parent."
"What did he say?"
"He said Kim's playing was an insult to his ears. That he could play better with his feet. So… I made sure he'll only be playing with his feet for a while."
Owen was speechless.
What kind of parent acts like that? Most people in the music world are cultured and well-mannered. But Bryan had run into a real piece of work. Well, that guy deserved what he got. He was lucky to still be alive after insulting Kim.
With his meeting with Bryan settled, Owen headed home. He had a lot to think about, but there were other things to take care of first.
Earlier, the security company had called him. Since he knew his mother and Amanda were already home, he told them to go ahead and start the installation.
When he arrived, he saw workers installing equipment on the doors and windows.
Inside, his mother was standing near the entrance, and surprisingly, Mr. McCall was there too. He seemed to be teaching her how to use the central control panel.
"Mom, I'm home. Mr. McCall is here too."
"Oh, since Owen is back, I'll be taking my leave now."
Mr. McCall, as usual, had a book in his hand. It seemed like he had just dropped by. He gave Owen a brief nod before heading out.
His mother turned to him and pointed at the workers. "Owen, what's all this?"
"Don't worry, Mom. I hired them to install it."
Owen explained the situation. The workers were from a security company he had contacted earlier in the day. He had purchased a security system, and they were installing it now.
Many wealthy families in the U.S. used security systems like this, and even some middle-class families had them. Their neighborhood, Purple Forest Lane, had always been safe, so they hadn't seen the need for one before. But now that they were being targeted, Owen wasn't taking any chances.
This security system was directly linked to the company's headquarters. If the doors or windows were tampered with, or if someone manually triggered the alarm, the security company would call the user for confirmation.
Even if robbers took someone hostage, it wouldn't help them—only the user knew the code. And if the user deliberately gave the wrong password, the company would immediately forward the alarm to the police.
Amanda was watching curiously as the workers installed the alarm system. She had heard about these before but had never seen one in action. The only downside? She wouldn't be able to sneak out at night anymore.
"Sir, the installation is complete. You can refer to the manual for usage instructions. If you have any issues, feel free to call customer service."
After thanking the workers, Owen tested the silent alarm. The phone rang instantly. After confirming his password, the alert was deactivated.
This security company seemed reliable—their response time was impressively fast.
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