Chapter 4 - The Hunt for the Truth
Dorian took the secure freight elevator down to the sub-basement of Vance Tower.
This level did not exist on any public blueprints.
It was a soundproof, concrete bunker used for handling the darkest aspects of his empire.
Two heavily armed guards opened the steel doors as Dorian approached.
Inside, Garrett Boyd was tied to a metal chair, his face bruised and bleeding.
Victor Silas, Dorian’s second-in-command and oldest friend, stood in the corner with his arms crossed.
Victor had been with Dorian since they were teenagers surviving on the streets of the South Side.
"He won't talk," Victor said, shaking his head.
"He keeps insisting he acted alone."
Dorian unbuttoned his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves.
He walked slowly toward the terrified accountant.
"Daniel Caldwell," Dorian said quietly.
Garrett flinched so violently that the metal chair rattled against the concrete floor.
Victor’s eyes narrowed in the shadows.
"What does a dead auditor have to do with this?" Victor asked.
Dorian ignored him, keeping his focus entirely on Garrett.
"You didn't just steal my money, Garrett."
"You killed Daniel Caldwell when he found the missing funds."
"And then you erased his life insurance policy to bury his wife."
Garrett started sobbing, shaking his head frantically.
"I didn't kill him!" Garrett cried.
"I just altered the books!"
"I swear to God, I never ordered the hit on Caldwell!"
"Then who did?" Dorian demanded, his voice echoing like thunder.
Garrett looked terrified, his eyes darting toward the dark corner of the room where Victor stood.
It was only a fraction of a second, but it was enough.
Dorian saw the look.
A cold, heavy stone dropped into the pit of Dorian’s stomach.
Victor.
His brother in arms.
The man who had stood beside him through every war for fifteen years.
Before Garrett could open his mouth to speak, a silenced gunshot echoed through the bunker.
Garrett’s head snapped back, a small red hole appearing between his eyes.
Dorian spun around, drawing his own weapon in a heartbeat.
Victor stood holding a smoking pistol with a silencer attached to the barrel.
"He was reaching for a hidden weapon, Dorian," Victor lied smoothly, his face completely calm.
"I had to put him down."
Dorian stared at his oldest friend, the betrayal burning like acid in his veins.
He didn't pull the trigger.
Not yet.
He needed proof, and he needed to secure Marin before Victor realized who she was.
"Clean this mess up," Dorian ordered coldly, holstering his gun.
"And find out where Garrett hid the money."
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Dorian walked out of the bunker, his mind racing with lethal calculations.
If Victor knew that Daniel Caldwell's widow was sitting in the penthouse, Marin was a dead woman.
