Chapter 13
The secure underground facility known only as "The Vault" was hidden beneath a defunct meatpacking plant on the edge of the city. It was the nerve center of Stallone's reborn syndicate. The room was vast, lined with high-tech server racks, heavy steel tables, and walls covered in tactical maps. The air smelled of ozone and hot electronics.
Stallone stormed into the room, his dark eyes blazing with a suppressed, lethal energy. His top lieutenants, a group of hardened men who had spent the last decade in exile with him, immediately stopped what they were doing and stood at attention.
Stallone didn't look at them. He walked straight to the center table, slamming the small wooden crate and the gold pocket watch down onto the metal surface.
"Vincent is alive," Stallone announced, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that commanded absolute silence.
A collective gasp rippled through the room. Victor, Stallone’s oldest and most trusted enforcer, stepped forward, staring at the blood-stained watch. "Boss... that’s impossible. We saw the warehouse collapse. The heat was too intense. Nobody walked out of that fire."
"Someone pulled him out before the collapse," Stallone said, his jaw tight. He tossed the crushed, handwritten note onto the table. "And they've kept him in a cage for ten years just to use him against me today. They knew I was coming for Evelyn Cross’s empire."
Victor read the note, his weathered face hardening. "Return the assets? We just bled to get them back. If we surrender the Cross holdings now, we have no capital to rebuild the families."
"I don't care about the money anymore," Stallone growled, slamming his fist onto the table, denting the heavy steel. "I care about the rat who orchestrated this. Evelyn Cross didn't act alone. She had a partner. Someone powerful enough to hide a man for a decade without a single whisper leaking to the streets."
"Who has that kind of reach?" Victor asked, pulling up a digital map of the city's criminal territories on a large monitor. "The Russians? The Cartel?"
"No," Stallone said, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed the elegant handwriting on the note. "This isn't a street gang. This is someone with infinite resources and a pathological need for control. Someone who moves in the same circles Vivienne Cross did."
Stallone turned to his tech specialist, a young man rapidly typing at a terminal. "Trace the burner phone that was taped to the folder. Find the exact cell tower it pinged when the call was made in the garage."
"Already on it, Boss," the tech replied, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "The signal was heavily routed, but the initial ping bounced off a private tower in the financial district. Specifically, the apex of the Vanguard Tower."
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Stallone’s blood ran cold. The Vanguard Tower was the headquarters of Richard Sterling, the billionaire real estate mogul and Vivienne Cross’s primary rival.
"Sterling," Stallone whispered, a dark, predatory smile creeping onto his face. "He used Evelyn to eliminate me ten years ago, and now he wants to steal the spoils. Suit up, Victor. We’re paying a visit to the penthouse."
