Chapter 9 - The Boardroom Confrontation
Forty-eight hours later.
The high-rise glass boardroom of the East Coast Syndicate Headquarters in downtown Manhattan overlooked the sprawling city skyline. Outside, the sun was shining brightly over the Hudson River, casting golden light across the polished mahogany conference table.
Frank Moretti—a heavy-set man in his sixties with slick silver hair and a five-thousand-dollar suit—sat at the head of the table, surrounded by seven senior board members.
"Alexander Voss is dead or hiding in the woods," Moretti announced, spreading his hands wide with smug satisfaction. "His estate was breached two nights ago. His head of security confirmed the drop. As of today, Philadelphia takes management of the shipping docks."
The board members nodded in quiet agreement, pulling out pen sets to sign the transfer ledger.
CLACK.
The heavy double doors of the boardroom swung open.
Every head in the room turned.
Alexander Voss stepped into the room. He was dressed in an immaculate black suit, his hair perfectly styled, looking entirely unharmed, terrifying, and regal.
Beside him walked me, wearing a crisp navy blazer and tailored trousers, holding a leather briefcase.
And walking right by my knee, un-leashed, wearing a polished leather working harness, was Bishop.
The entire boardroom went dead silent. Two board members gasped, dropping their pens onto the table.
Moretti's face turned the color of ash. He scrambled back in his leather chair, his hands shaking violently. "Voss?! You... you're dead! Rener said—"
"Rener is six feet underground in the pine barrens, Frank," Voss said smoothly, walking down the length of the table with slow, deliberate steps.
Bishop walked beside me, his dark eyes locked onto Moretti. He didn't bark. He didn't growl. He simply walked with the calm, terrifying confidence of an apex predator backed by the most powerful man in the city.
Voss stopped at the head of the table, leaning his hands on the mahogany surface, staring down at Moretti.
"You tried to take my docks," Voss whispered, his voice echoing through the silent room like a death sentence. "You bought my security chief. You tried to murder my guard dog to cover your entry. And you thought you could sit in my chair."
"Alex... listen to me!" Moretti stammered, looking around at the silent board members for help, but finding none. "It was just business! A corporate restructuring!"
"In my world, Frank," Voss replied cold-eyedly, "treason isn't business. It's an debt paid in full."
I stepped forward, opening my briefcase and placing a thick stack of printed financial logs, encrypted recording transcripts, and federal arrest warrants onto the table right in front of Moretti.
"These are the complete financial records of your offshore accounts in Grand Cayman," I stated clearly, my voice ringing with absolute confidence. "Along with the recorded confession from your breach team leader in the glasshouse garden."
Two federal agents and four of Voss's armed security guards stepped into the boardroom behind us.
"Frank Moretti," the lead federal agent announced, pulling out steel handcuffs. "You're under arrest for racketeering, attempted murder, and federal conspiracy."
Moretti was dragged out of the chair, weeping and sputtering excuses, as the steel cuffs clicked around his wrists.
The remaining seven board members sat frozen in their seats, staring up at Voss in absolute terror.
Voss looked around the table, his hazel eyes cold, sharp, and completely dominant.
"Anyone else have business to discuss today?" Voss asked softly.
May you like
Every single board member shook their head in silent, terrified compliance.
"Good," Voss said. He turned to me, offering his arm with a soft, genuine smile. "Let's go home, Ren."
