Chapter 4 - The Midnight Ultimatum
Alexander listened to the synthetic voice without a flicker of panic. His pulse remained steady, the cold discipline forged over four decades of corporate warfare and ruthless survival shielding his mind.
“Who is this?” Alexander said, his voice low and unwavering.
“Names are irrelevant to a dying empire, Alexander,” the voice crackled through the encrypted speaker. “You tore up the boardroom, you broke your nephew’s bones, and you terrorized Julianna. But none of that changes the reality: Marcus is breathing through a mechanical ventilator under my supervision. Every minute you delay pulling your federal auditors from the Kane Holdings accounts, we reduce his oxygen intake by ten percent.”
“Put my son on the line,” Alexander ordered.
A pause followed, filled with static and the distant, rhythmic beep of medical equipment. Then, a ragged, faint wheeze came through the speaker. “...Dad... don’t... give them the... harbor...”
The call instantly cut to dial tone.
Alexander slowly lowered the phone. A single tendon jumped along his jawline. For the first time in years, a lethal fury ignited behind his dark eyes. Marcus was alive, but barely. And Victor Kane was using him as human collateral to protect the harbor redevelopment—a sixty-billion-dollar maritime logistics hub controlling half the eastern seaboard’s commercial shipping.
Briggs stepped inside, his tactical headset blinking green. “Sir, Dr. Sterling finished the examination. Lily has minor nutritional deficiencies and extreme psychological stress, but no permanent physical damage. She is asking for her father.”
“Keep her protected under Tier-One protocols,” Alexander said, his voice deadly quiet. “Double the perimeter guard at the penthouse. Authorize lethal force for anyone approaching within two hundred meters without clearance.”
“Understood, Mr. Vance. What about Victor Kane?”
Alexander walked over to the tall arched window overlooking the private estate grounds. In the driveway below, Julianna was being escorted by two guards toward the estate’s converted holding rooms, her shrill curses muffled by the thick glass.
“Victor thinks he has till midnight to bleed me,” Alexander said coldly. “He forgot who taught him how to play the game.”
“Should we deploy the strike team to the Black Forest coordinates?” Briggs asked.
Alexander turned around, adjusting his cufflinks. “No. The Black Forest is a decoy. If Richard knew about it, Victor burned it months ago. Victor would never keep a prize like Marcus beyond his immediate reach.”
Alexander walked over to his private desk, unlocking a biometric safe hidden behind a nineteenth-century oil painting. He pulled out a black leather ledger containing unindexed shipping manifests.
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“Marcus isn't in Europe,” Alexander said, tapping a finger against a specific cargo code. “He’s right here in the city, trapped in the one place Victor owns outright—the old naval shipyard.”
Just then, the security alarms on the estate perimeter began to blare.
