PART 11

The chaotic scene before him left Wesley in shock.

For a while, he muttered to himself, "What... the FUCK!"

"Wesley, I'm sorry," Annie sobbed, kneeling on the bed with her hands covering her mouth and nose. "I was wrong. I swear this is the last time. There will never be another time. Please forgive me."

Wesley looked at Annie with a strange expression in his eyes, as if he was seeing his wife in a new light. Gradually, his expression turned to one of mixed emotions.

There was puzzlement, doubt, anger, and a hint of murderous intent!

With a stoic expression, Wesley ordered Jason to go downstairs and get his favorite 20-year-old Scotch whisky from the bar. Jason obliged, walking down the stairs with his gun in hand.

The bar was stocked with dozens of bottles of fine wine, each with a price tag of no less than $1,000. Jason turned on the dim incandescent light and began searching for his preferred brand.

As he was opening the bottle, Annie's screams echoed from upstairs. Though it gave him pause, Jason continued with his task, unfazed by the commotion.

Wesley, on the other hand, remained upstairs, calmly carrying out his plan. His technique, honed from years of experience, made the act seem almost routine.

Eventually, Annie's screams ceased, and Wesley descended the stairs, his expression vacant. He took a seat on a swivel chair next to Jason and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

Jason, ever the gracious host, poured him a quarter glass and offered it to Wesley, who downed it in one gulp.

The sound of the glass hitting the bar echoed throughout the room, and Wesley's hands trembled as he poured himself another. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

Sensing that his presence was no longer needed, Jason resumed his seat at the bar and poured himself a drink. For the next half hour, the two men drank in silence, emptying a bottle of whiskey between them.

Wesley took a deep breath and said, "Jason, I apologize for subjecting you to such a scandal."

Jason shrugged and replied with a smile, "No need to apologize, I found it quite entertaining."

Wesley's expression turned ugly as he spat out a curse, "F**k you!"

"If I die one day, I'll find someone to cut off your d**k and sew it on your stinking mouth," he threatened.

"That would be such a waste. If it were up to me, I would put it in a museum to be admired by future generations," chuckled Jason.

Wesley's mood lightened a little at Jason's joke. "You're a disgusting guy," he said.

The two clinked their glasses and finished the last sip of whisky.

Wesley's expression turned serious as he put down his glass. "What the hell did you do? This is the first time I've seen Kingpin so angry."

"Just a small thing," Jason replied nonchalantly.

"A small thing? What are you talking about?"

Jason looked down at his wine glass and said casually, "I slept with Vanessa."

Wesley was completely dumbfounded.

"What? How is that a small thing? I warned you earlier that your behavior would get you killed."

Jason waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I came here today to ask how Kingpin found out about me and Vanessa."

Wesley shook his head. "Kingpin didn't tell me anything, not even about Vanessa. He only said that you betrayed the gang and ordered a bounty on your head throughout New York."

Jason smiled lightly. He was already mentally prepared for the bounty, which was why he had changed his phone and even started dressing differently when he went out.

"What price?" asked Jason.

"$1 million if you're killed, $3 million if you're brought in alive," Wesley replied.

"Huh! It's a big deal." Jason smiled and asked, "Can I turn myself in?"

"I'd be very welcome to that," Wesley said, standing up and straightening his suit. "I still have a mess to deal with, you can go, just pretend I haven't seen you tonight."

"Wesley!" Jason put down his glass, took out his Glock pistol hidden in his clothes, and pointed it at him. "You can't leave without giving me an answer, or you can try to kill me with your Beretta 92."

Wesley looked surprised, his hand stopping midway to his own gun.

In the dim light, the two men faced each other with pistols in their hands.

After a brief standoff, Wesley eventually relented and let go of his gun. He spoke with frustration, "Jason, I already told you, I don't know anything. Boss didn't confide in me."

Jason gave a derisive smile and said, "We've been friends and colleagues for so many years. You don't have to lie to me."

Wesley remained silent.

"Alright, I'll be straightforward. Kingpin hates Brother Vladimir and favors Feathers. He would never contact Vladimir himself."

Jason then asked, "So the question is, who gave Vladimir the orders to find my house?"

Wesley's expression changed as he contemplated the question.

He eventually sighed and said, "I'm sorry, Jason. I..."

"No need to apologize," Jason interrupted. "I know you were just following Kingpin's orders

Thank you," Wesley responded. "When Boss called me yesterday, I found out about you and Vanessa. I was losing my mind. You really have no fear of death."

"Just a little bit overwhelmed," Jason laughed.

"I wasn't praising you," Wesley exclaimed with a frown, his voice rising with excitement. "Because of your actions, Hell's Kitchen and the entire underground forces in New York are in complete chaos. Do you have any idea how many people will die because of this?"

Jason shook his head in disdain, thinking that Wesley truly embodied Kingpin beliefs as his right hand.

From the very beginning of forming a gang, Kingpin set a small goal for himself: to control the entire New York underworld and maintain strict control over his subordinates, thereby creating a perfect city without killing, robbery, and violent crime.

Kingpin had once shared his ideals with Jason, and while Jason smiled and agreed on the surface, he was secretly disdainful.

Staring into Wesley's eyes, Jason said seriously, "Wesley, do you really believe Kingpin's rhetoric? It's ridiculous!"

"Evil is evil, and good is good. Don't always put a mask of morality on your face. As long as we scumbags live in this world, New York will never settle down