Chapter 8 - The Blueprint of Viktor Rossi
The Maybach sped through the empty downtown streets, weaving through traffic with the smooth, terrifying speed of a bullet train.
Adeline sat pressed against the opposite door, her chest heaving, adrenaline still humming through every nerve in her body. "Your sister... Eleanor is back there. They shot at her—"
"Marcus has a extraction team sweeping the building as we speak," Julian interrupted, his voice dropping all pretense of corporate detachment. "My sister is many things, Miss Pharaoh, but she is thoroughly accustomed to cleaning up her own messes."
Adeline stared at him, the stress of the night finally boiling over into raw frustration. She leaned forward, pointing a shaking finger at him.
"This is your war! That front company in Suite 1912—that’s your building! Those men waiting for me in the loading dock weren't random thugs; they were Rossi’s men because of your corporate real estate schemes!"
Julian turned his head slowly, meeting her angry gaze with eyes as cold and deep as an Arctic sea.
"You’re entirely correct," Julian said without a trace of defensiveness. "Viktor Rossi has been trying to muscle his way into the downtown harbor redevelopment zone for six months. He used a shell company to plant operatives on Floor 19 to monitor my acquisitions. When you walked out of the service door at 11:07 P.M. three nights ago, you didn't just empty a trash bin—you walked right into the middle of a corporate surveillance grid."
"And you knew?" Adeline’s voice rose, cracking slightly. "You knew those men were watching the loading dock when you walked out there? You used me as bait?"
"I didn't use you as bait," Julian said sharply, leaning forward so the amber glow of the dashboard caught the hard lines of his face. "I knew Rossi’s men were staking out the service exits because my security team intercepted their comms an hour prior. I went down there because I intended to intercept them before they reached you. You were simply unfortunate enough to finish your shift ten minutes early."
Adeline stared at him, searching his face for any sign of remorse or deceit. There was none. Julian Vance was a man who operated on absolute control, viewing human beings either as assets, liabilities, or collateral.
"And the note?" Adeline asked softly. "The note in my locker telling me to stop looking upstairs?"
A slow, grim smile touched the corner of Julian’s mouth. "That wasn't from Rossi. That was from my own head of security, trying to frighten you enough to request a transfer so you wouldn't get caught in the crossfire."
Adeline looked down at her hands. They were trembling violently—not from fear anymore, but from the crushing realization of how small she was in this war between billionaires and mob bosses.
"I want out," she whispered. "I want my last paycheck, and I want to disappear."
"You can't," Julian said simply.
May you like
Adeline snapped her head up. "Try me."
"Rossi’s men saw your face. They know you were in Suite 1912. Even if you quit tonight, Viktor Rossi does not leave loose ends," Julian said, his tone chillingly matter-of-fact. "The only way you survive the next forty-eight hours is if Viktor Rossi no longer has an organization to send after you."
