Chapter 7 - The Lion at the Gate
Christian’s eyes narrowed into slits of lethal intent. Viktor Moretti did not travel without an army, and he never exposed himself on enemy territory unless he possessed an absolute, unshakeable leverage.
""Julian, take them to the sub-level safe room,"" Christian commanded, reaching into a concealed gun rack mounted beneath the monitor console and retrieving a heavy semi-automatic pistol. ""Lock the vault from the inside. Do not open it for anyone except my voice.""
""Christian, wait,"" Serena begged, limping forward and grabbing his forearm. ""What is he doing here? Who is that man?""
""An old ghost who thinks he can haunt me,"" Christian said, gently but firmly prying her fingers off his arm. ""Take the girl and go.""
Mia watched the monitors, pointing a small finger at the screen where Viktor Moretti stood. ""That man has bad eyes,"" she said simply. ""Like the stray dog in the alley.""
""Go with your mother, Mia,"" Christian told her softly.
""You coming back?"" the child asked, her head tilted, wide eyes searching his face for a promise she seemed uniquely equipped to demand.
Christian paused. He had never made a promise he wasn't prepared to enforce with blood. ""I will come back.""
Julian guided Serena and Mia into the heavily armored sub-level, the thick steel door sealing shut with a definitive thud. Christian turned, chambered a round into his weapon, and signaled the four heavily armed guards waiting by the elevator.
Ten minutes later, Christian walked out of the mansion’s front entrance, accompanied by his men, stepping into the cold autumn drizzle. He approached the wrought-iron gates where Viktor Moretti stood patiently, his hands resting on an ivory-handled walking cane. Beyond Viktor, six black SUVs were parked in a defensive semi-circle, their tinted windows hiding an unknown number of gunmen.
""Christian,"" Viktor purred, his heavy Russian accent curling around the syllables like smoke. ""You look tired. Domestic life doesn't suit a wolf.""
""You breached my docks and shot at my home, Viktor,"" Christian said, his voice deadly calm, hands buried in his coat pockets. ""You have thirty seconds to explain why I shouldn't have my men paint the asphalt with your intestines.""
Viktor chuckled, an oily sound that sent a chill through the damp air. He held up the white envelope. ""A business proposition, my friend. We both know your distribution network is dying. You lack liquidity. But more importantly... you lack information.""
Viktor tossed the envelope through the iron bars. It landed on the wet pavement between them.
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""What is this?"" Christian asked, not looking down.
""Your little maid,"" Viktor smiled, his gold tooth glinting in the pale gray light. ""Serena. You think she returned to you out of desperation? Check the bank accounts listed in that file, Christian. She’s been receiving monthly deposits from my syndicate for the last four years. She didn't come to you for help. She came to deliver you.""
