Chapter 6 - blood on the velvet
The fortieth floor was pitch black. Dust sheets covered dusty furniture along the grand corridors, and the air smelled of wet plaster, stale paint, and cold air conditioning.
Roman walked down the center of the hallway like a shadow, flanked by four armed bodyguards moving in silent tactical formation. The soft hum of the building's central ventilation system was the only sound echoing through the abandoned floor.
They reached the heavy steel doors of the old linen storage vault.
Roman signaled with two fingers. His lead bodyguard stepped forward, placing a breaching charge against the electronic lock mechanism.
BOOM!
The heavy doors blew inward with a cloud of sparks and white smoke. Roman charged through the breach first, his weapon raised, his eyes sweeping the vast, cluttered room.
Inside, the old storage room had been converted into an elaborate tactical hub. Tactical monitors displayed live video feeds from every hallway of the Black Crown, while maps of Roman’s shipping routes were pinned across the back wall.
Sitting behind a heavy desk near the center of the room was Julian Vance.
Julian was in his late fifties, silver-haired, polished, and wearing an expensive navy suit with a silver anchor signet ring gleaming on his pinky finger. Resting on the desk beside him was a heavy brass detonator connected to remote charges set along the building's primary power grid.
"Roman," Julian said smoothly, offering a cold, bitter smile as he slowly raised his hands. "I see your little maid's child ruined my elevator party."
"You came into my house, Julian," Roman growled, his voice echoing off the concrete walls as he pointed his weapon directly at Julian's chest. "You corrupted my night manager, threatened an innocent woman, and tried to murder me in a shaft."
"This house was built on my blood too!" Julian spat, his bitterness boiling over. "You banished me five years ago over a disagreement on territory! I built this syndicate with your father! I deserved half of the Crown!"
"You sold state secrets to the Chicago crews," Roman corrected coldly. "You were lucky I let you walk away with your life five years ago. You won't get that mercy a second time."
Julian’s eyes flickered toward the detonator on his desk. "If you shoot me, Roman, my thumb presses this button. The primary generators on sublevel three will blow, and this entire seventy-five-story palace goes dark. My men outside will storm the penthouse before your security even knows what happened."
Roman didn't flinch. He didn't even blink.
"You think I left my home unguarded?" Roman asked softly, a terrifying smile touching his rugged face. "Check your monitors, Julian."
Julian glanced toward the tactical screens. His eyes widened in absolute horror.
On the live video feeds, Julian’s strike team outside the hotel was already disarmed, restrained, and surrounded by fifty of Roman’s elite syndicate soldiers.
Before Julian could react, Roman stepped forward with blinding speed, swinging the heavy frame of his sidearm directly into Julian’s jaw, knocking the older man out cold before his hand could even touch the detonator.
May you like
Roman stood over his former lieutenant, his breathing steady, his black suit spotless.
"Secure him," Roman ordered his men flatly. "Take him to the sub-basement with Trent. It's time for a family reunion."
