Chapter 8 - The Scent of Blood
The realization hit Julian with the blunt force of a sledgehammer. Helena—the delicate, philanthropic sister who spent her days managing the family’s art foundations and charitable trusts in Paris. She had played the grieving daughter to perfection at Marcus’s funeral, weeping against Julian’s chest while Dominic stood vigil at the vault. It was all theatre.
""Helena..."" Julian murmured, his fingers curling into tight fists over the keyboard. ""She provided the capital. Dominic provided the execution.""
""That explains the private jet manifest,"" Vance remarked, shining a flashlight over the printed manifests cached in the drive. ""A Gulfstream belonging to the Helena Laurent Foundation touched down at the municipal airfield two hours ago. She isn't in Paris, Julian. She's here in the city.""
Julian closed the laptop, his expression completely devoid of mercy. The poison in his tea, his father's murdered legacy, the assassins sent to slaughter an innocent four-year-old child—every thread pointed to a calculated extermination of his bloodline.
""She came to oversee the final transfer,"" Julian said, his voice terrifyingly calm. ""Once I am reported dead, the council rules dictate that the estate passes to the eldest surviving direct descendant. Helena assumes the legal chairmanship, while Dominic assumes tactical control of the streets.""
""So what's the play, boss?"" Vance asked, checking the action on his Benelli shotgun. ""Do we hit the airstrip and blow the jet out of the sky?""
""No,"" Julian replied, looking over at Maya, who had curled up on the Suburban's back seat, exhausted, fast asleep beneath the heavy wool blanket. ""Helena won't stay at the airfield. She always operates from the shadows of prestige. When our father died, she stayed at the St. Jude Estate on the cliffside. That’s where Dominic will bring my supposed death certificate to be counter-signed.""
Julian walked to the trunk of the vehicle and pulled out a tactical load-bearing vest, spare magazines, and an acoustic sound-suppressed sniper rifle.
""Vance, you stay with the girl,"" Julian ordered, his tone brooking no argument. ""You guard her with your life. If I am not back by sunrise, take the drive and Maya straight to the Federal Prosecutor’s compound in Geneva. Burn every family asset to the ground, but keep her alive.""
Vance locked eyes with Julian, recognizing the finality in the younger man's stare. He slowly nodded. ""You have my word, boss. But you're walking into a fortified fortress. Dominic will have his entire battalion guarding your sister.""
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""Good,"" Julian said, racking the bolt of his rifle with a metallic snap. ""I won't have to waste time hunting them down.""
He turned on his heel and vanished into the rain-slick darkness of the canal locks, a lone specter descending upon the house of wolves.
