Chapter 6 - The Traitor's Mask
An hour later, Marcus arrived at the estate.
He was a sharply dressed man in his early thirties, ambitious and charming, but with eyes that were always calculating.
He walked into Lucas’s private study, pouring himself a glass of expensive bourbon as if nothing had changed.
"Rough night, boss," Marcus said, raising the glass.
"I heard the SUV got chewed up by the Russians."
Lucas sat behind his massive mahogany desk, shrouded in the shadows of the dimly lit room.
He didn't touch the drink Marcus poured for him.
"We were ambushed on an unlisted route, Marcus."
"The Volkovs knew exactly where to hit us."
Marcus frowned, setting his glass down.
"We have a rat, then."
"I’ll interrogate the lower ranks immediately."
"Tear the whole organization apart until we find who leaked your location."
Lucas leaned forward, the faint light catching the cold, murderous intent in his eyes.
"Hannah Bennett," Lucas said softly.
Marcus didn't flinch, but his breathing stopped for a fraction of a second.
It was a microscopic tell, but for a predator like Lucas, it was a flashing neon sign.
"Who?" Marcus asked, feigning ignorance.
"The nurse from Cicero," Lucas continued, his voice dangerously calm.
"The one who saved my life twelve years ago."
"The one you helped me erase the files on, to keep her safe."
Marcus shifted his weight slightly.
"Right, right. I remember."
"Why bring her up now?"
"Because she was murdered three days ago," Lucas said, standing up slowly.
"And today, her daughter walked into my bank with a ghost card."
Marcus’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of genuine panic breaking through his composed mask.
"Her daughter?"
"Yes," Lucas said, stepping around the desk.
"My daughter."
Marcus took a step back.
"Lucas, I swear to God, I didn't know."
"I didn't know she had a kid."
"But you knew she was dead," Lucas stated, a statement, not a question.
"You sold her out to the Volkovs to stage a coup."
"You thought if they took away my leverage, you could step up and take the throne."
May you like
Marcus’s hand twitched toward the gun inside his jacket.
It was a fatal mistake.
