Chapter 10 - Infiltration of Glass and Steel
The service elevator ascended silently toward the 60th floor. Inside, the digital floor indicator climbed with agonizing tension: 45... 50... 55.
Julian checked the suppressor on his rifle, his shoulder brushing against Clara's. Despite the imminent threat of death, an unspoken, electric bond had formed between them. In the quiet hum of the elevator, she looked up at him.
"When this is over... what happens to me?" Clara asked softly.
Julian met her gaze, his dark eyes softening for the briefest moment. "Whatever you want, Clara. A new identity, a mansion in Europe, total freedom. But if you choose to stay... nobody will ever make you hide your scars again."
Clara’s heart fluttered, but before she could answer, the elevator chimed, announcing floor 60.
The doors slid open. Two private contractors hired by Sterling were stationed in the corridor. Before they could raise their assault rifles, Julian fired two silenced shots, dropping them instantly.
"Move," Julian whispered, leading Clara through the darkened executive hallway toward the master suite.
The tower was eerily quiet. Most of Sterling’s men were concentrated on the lower broadcast floors, anticipating a frontal assault. They never expected Vance to come from the shadows.
They reached the massive mahogany double doors of the boardroom suite. Julian pushed them open, scanning the perimeter. The room was empty, illuminated only by the panoramic view of the storm clouds gathering over the skyline.
In the corner stood the antique brass-and-titanium safe inherited from the original founders.
"Go," Julian said, covering the entrance. "Open it."
Clara rushed to the safe, placing her palm against the biometric glass scanner. The device whirred, analyzing her pulse and dermal ridges. A mechanical click echoed through the room.
Access Granted.
Clara pulled the heavy door open, reaching for the velvet-bound ledger inside. But as her fingers touched the leather, a shadow fell across the threshold of the room.
May you like
"I expected you through the front door, Julian," a cold voice sneered.
Senator Sterling stepped into the light, but he was not alone. Behind him stood Viktor Morozov—Clara’s eldest brother, long presumed dead, his face scarred and his eyes dead as winter.
