Chapter 12 - The Blood Pact with an Enemy
The rain had turned into an icy sleet by the time they surfaced through a maintenance grate in an alley behind Trinity Church.
A matte-black SUV idled in the shadows with its lights extinguished, the wipers sweeping rhythmically across the windshield.
Marcus, Adrian’s scarred head of security, stepped out into the freezing sleet with an umbrella raised and an automatic rifle tucked under his storm coat.
“Boss,” Marcus said, his eyes scanning the alley with frantic urgency.
“The entire downtown grid is crawling with state troopers and private patrol cars from the northern estate.”
Marcus opened the rear door for Mia, shielding her head from the driving sleet with his broad frame.
“Evelyn filed an emergency protective custody order with the county judge an hour ago,” Marcus added as Adrian climbed in beside her.
“She claimed you abducted the pregnant server from the banquet after having a psychotic episode in the study.”
Adrian leaned back against the leather seat, letting out a short, humorless breath that sounded like grinding glass.
“She works fast when she knows the execution failed.”
Adrian took a clean cloth from the console and wiped the soot and dried blood from Mia’s pale face.
Mia did not pull away from his touch; the brutal intimacy of their shared survival had stripped away any lingering hesitation between them.
“Where do we go now?” Mia asked, her hands pressed against her stomach.
“Every police officer in the state is looking for this car.”
Adrian picked up the encrypted satellite phone resting in the charging cradle.
“We don't run from the police, Mia.”
Adrian scrolled through a secure directory until he found a number that had not been dialed in five years.
“We divide the house before Evelyn can consolidate the board.”
He hit the call button and pressed the phone to his ear.
The phone rang four times before a ragged, anxious voice answered on the other end of the line.
“Who is this?”
Julian Russo sounded like a man who had not slept, his voice trembling with the brittle edge of unraveling nerves.
“Julian,” Adrian said, his tone conversational and chillingly calm.
Silence stretched over the line for three long seconds.
“Adrian?” Julian stammered, background noise suggesting he was pacing across a marble floor.
“Where are you? The estate is in complete lockdown, Grandmother called Victor, and there are six private security units arriving at the gates—”
“Shut your mouth and listen to me,” Adrian interrupted, the velvet threat in his tone cutting Julian’s rambling short.
“Grandmother tried to gas Mia and me inside the Wall Street vault twenty minutes ago.”
A sharp intake of breath whistled through the receiver.
“What did you say?” Julian’s voice cracked.
“The Wall Street vault?”
“Grandmother doesn't even have access to that branch!”
“She has access to everything, Julian, because she is the one who approved your Zurich shipping corridors,” Adrian replied ruthlessly.
“She used your incompetence as a smokescreen to move cartel weapons through our southern dry docks.”
Julian began to protest, his voice rising into defensive hysteria.
“That is a lie! I set up those logistics routes myself with the European consortium!”
“You set up shell companies that were designed to collapse the moment a federal subpoena landed on the desk,” Adrian said, looking at the titanium drive in Mia’s hand.
“Luke found the real ledgers, Julian.”
Adrian leaned toward the microphone, each word landing like a hammer blow.
“Grandmother had his brake lines dissolved with hydraulic acid because Luke was going to present those documents to the board on Monday morning.”
Julian went completely silent.
Mia could hear the faint, ragged sound of Julian’s breathing over the speaker.
“She... she told me Luke had a private gambling debt in Chicago,” Julian whispered, the arrogance completely drained from his voice.
“She told me Luke was spiraling and that he crashed his car because he was intoxicated behind the wheel.”
“Luke didn't drink, Julian, and you know it,” Adrian countered coldly.
“And right now, Evelyn has a federal warrant being prepared that names you as the sole architect of the Blackwood weapons corridor.”
Julian let out a choked sob that sounded pathetic and small.
“She wouldn't do that to me... I am her grandson, I built this division for her...”
“You are a convenient carcass to throw to the Department of Justice so she can keep the shipping licenses under the baby’s trust,” Adrian said ruthlessly.
“If you stay in your penthouse, Julian, her private contractors will ensure you have a fatal heart attack before the market opens at nine.”
“What do I do, Adrian?” Julian begged, the bitter rivalry between them evaporating into pure, naked terror.
“What do you want from me?”
Adrian looked out the tinted window as the SUV accelerated through the wet streets toward the northern parkway.
“I want the master security bypass for the estate’s west gate,” Adrian ordered.
“And I want your personal testimony on record before Arthur Vance and the United States Attorney.”
Julian hesitated for one second, the remnants of his pride warring against the sheer instinct to survive.
“If I give you the gate codes, Adrian... what happens to me?”
Adrian’s jaw tightened into stone.
“You go to federal prison for corporate fraud, Julian.”
“Instead of going to the cemetery in a closed mahogany box beside Luke.”
Julian swallowed so loudly it was audible across the car.
“The west gate code is 9044... with the secondary biometric override routed through my office terminal.”
Julian’s voice broke into a desperate whisper.
“Don't let her kill me, Adrian.”
Adrian hung up the phone without another word.
He turned to Marcus in the front seat.
“Reroute to the northern estate.”
Marcus checked the rearview mirror, his scarred brow furrowing.
“Boss, Evelyn has twelve tactical contractors from the Montreal outfit holding the main house.”
May you like
Adrian drew a spare magazine from his vest and clicked it into the grip of his pistol.
“Then twelve men from Montreal are going to die in my grandmother’s garden.”
