The Blind Woman Touched the Most Feared Man in New Orleans and Said He Was in Pain... Then His Enemies Came Looking for Her

The rain poured down, soaking them to the skin.

August stood his ground, his body shielding Marin, but his gun hand was shaking. The pain in his chest was an white-hot iron spike, radiating down his left arm. He could barely breathe.

"Vance," August whispered, his voice failing. "Let... let her go. She has nothing to do with this."

"She knows too much," Vance said, his finger tightening on the trigger. "And besides, she’s the only thing that made you look human. I like seeing you break."

Marin did not cower. She stepped out from behind August, her white cane held firmly in her hand. Her face was pale, but her eyes, though sightless, were fixed in Vance’s direction.

"Mr. Vance," she said, her voice clear and carrying over the sound of the rain. "You think you have won because you have a gun. But you are a very stupid man."

Vance blinked, startled by her defiance. "What did you say, blind girl?"

"I said you are stupid," Marin repeated, taking a step forward. "You think August’s strength comes from his empire. You think if you take the docks, you take his power. But his power comes from his silence. And you've just made him very, very loud."

As she spoke, she struck her metal cane against a nearby bronze garden statue.

The sharp, metallic CLANG echoed through the garden, its resonance vibrating through the wet air.

It wasn't just a noise. It was a signal.

From the shadows behind Vance, three of August’s elite snipers, who had been tracking the sound of Marin's voice and the metallic ring of the statue, fired simultaneously.

Three suppressed shots tore through the rainy night.

Victor Vance’s eyes widened in shock. The revolver slipped from his fingers, and he collapsed into the mud, his reign of terror ending in a silent pool of crimson water.

But as Vance fell, so did August.