Chapter 3 - The Gathering of Vultures
The single crack of gunfire sent a shockwave of panic through the cathedral. Socialites screamed, dropping champagne flutes on the carpeted aisles, while politicians scrambled toward the fire exits only to find them barred from the outside by men in charcoal tactical gear.
Elena walked down the aisle alone, leaving the shattered golf club behind. Her train swept over fallen flower petals and shattered glass, her expression unreadable. She did not hurry. She moved with the predatory calm of a monarch arriving to inspect a battlefield.
Behind her, Charles stumbled out of the private suite, his tie undone, barking desperate orders to empty chairs. ""Call the city precinct! Block the exits! She's a terrorist!""
No one listened. The guests were looking toward the cathedral altar, where the priest had fled, leaving an imposing figure standing beside the cross. A tall man in a navy three-piece suit, his salt-and-pepper hair cut short and a jagged scar running along his jawline, stood waiting.
It was Vincent Vance.
Charles collapsed against a carved pew, clutching his chest. ""No... no, I watched the boat burn. I had the wreckage dragged. You were inside that yacht!""
""You watched what I wanted you to watch, Charles,"" Vincent’s deep, gravelly voice rolled over the acoustics of the vaulted ceiling. He didn't look angry; he looked disappointed, like a master craftsman inspecting a defective tool. ""You spent five years stealing my supply lines, thinking you were an apex predator. But you forgot one simple rule of our world: you never threaten a man's legacy.""
Vincent walked down the altar steps, his polished oxfords clicking rhythmically, until he met Elena midway down the aisle. He placed a gentle, gloved hand on his daughter’s shoulder, a gesture filled with profound respect rather than paternal condescension.
""Is it done?"" Vincent asked.
May you like
""Every account, every vault, every deed,"" Elena answered, her eyes locked onto Charles. ""The Sterling name ceases to exist by noon.""
From the back of the chapel, the heavy oak doors slammed shut, plunging the hall into shadows. Then, the sound of rhythmic clapping emerged from the dark balcony above.
