Chapter 108 - The Shadow Syndicate Unmasked
"Julian..." Emma whispered, her fingers digging into the edge of the satellite drive in her coat pocket. "My mother said her entire family was slaughtered."
"Slaughtered?" Julian laughed, a dry, humorless sound that echoed across the dark, shattered penthouse. "Our grandparents were weak. They believed wealth should be shared with governments, that power should submit to constitutions and borders. Vance and Moretti’s fathers didn't destroy us—they served us! The Vanguard was nothing more than an American branch office, an administrative puppet to handle real estate and politicians."
He took another deliberate step toward her. Behind him, Vincent was slowly, agonizingly gathering his strength, his hand sliding across the bloody floor toward the magnetic railgun dropped by the dead operative.
"When Vance lost control and let a common waitress expose thirty years of financial infrastructure," Julian continued, shaking his head with mild disappointment, "the Sovereign Council decided Chicago had outlived its usefulness. The blackout is only the first phase. In twelve hours, the offshore sovereign fleet will seize the Great Lakes trade corridors. But to authorize the continental transfer, we require the Master Key. The drive your mother stole when she fled Geneva."
"I’ll throw it off the balcony before I hand it to you," Emma spat, her voice ringing with absolute defiance.
"You won't," Julian said calmly, drawing an ivory-hilted stiletto from his belt. "Because if you don't place it in my hand in the next five seconds, I will pin Vincent Moretti to this marble floor and cut him to pieces while you watch. Starting with his eyes."
Julian turned slightly, taking a step toward Vincent’s prone form. "A billionaire in Chicago, perhaps. But to the Sovereign Council, Vincent, you are just an oversized street dog that needs to be put down."
"Maybe so," a rasping voice whispered from the shadows.
Julian froze.
Vincent Moretti was already on his feet, bracing his back against a stone pillar. In his hands, the heavy black railgun hummed with a terrifying, high-pitched whine of accelerating magnetic coils.
"What did you say about my city?" Vincent whispered.
Julian’s eyes widened in sheer, instinctual terror. He lunged forward to strike—
May you like
Vincent pulled the trigger.
A beam of blinding blue kinetic lightning punched through Julian’s right shoulder, tearing off his arm and pinning him against the far reinforced steel door with the force of an artillery shell.
