Chapter 1 - The Titanium Cage
The silence inside the Vanguard Conservatory was no longer the hushed, respectful quiet of high society. It was the suffocating, heavy silence of a tomb.
The tactical guards, dressed head-to-toe in unmarked matte-black gear, did not shout orders. They didn’t need to. Their sheer presence, coupled with the matte-black rifles resting securely across their armored chests, was enough to paralyze the hundred or so billionaires, politicians, and socialites trapped in the room.
Preston Croft, the man who had shoved me into a bronze fountain just three minutes ago, was breathing heavily. His chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow jerks. He looked around the room, waiting for his usual safety net to catch him. He waited for a judge to step in. He waited for the chief of police, who was sipping a martini by the Renaissance exhibit, to flash a badge and arrest me.
But the chief of police was staring at the tactical guards, his face the color of wet ash. He recognized private military contractors when he saw them. And he knew his local badge meant absolutely nothing in this room.
"You can't do this," Preston finally choked out, his voice cracking. "This is kidnapping. This is false imprisonment. My father will have you buried under the prison for this, Serena!"
I slowly reached up and touched my cheekbone. The skin was tender, swelling rapidly. I looked at the blood on my fingertips, then wiped it cleanly onto the pristine white silk of Preston’s expensive pocket square. He flinched but didn't dare move away.
"Your father," I said, my voice carrying clearly across the silent room, "is currently standing outside the building, screaming at a wall of titanium that he cannot breach. He cannot save you, Preston. No one in this room can save you."
"Arrest her!" Preston yelled, turning desperately toward the crowd. "Judge Harmon! Chief Davis! Do your damn jobs! Arrest this psycho!"
Chief Davis didn't move. He lowered his martini glass to a nearby tray, his hands shaking slightly.
I turned my back on Preston, leaving him trembling in the center of the floor, and began to walk. The crowd parted for me like the Red Sea. I approached the center of the atrium, where a massive, elevated podium had been set up for the auctioneer. I climbed the short flight of glass stairs and turned to face my captives.
"Ladies and gentlemen," I announced, my voice echoing off the glass ceiling. "You were invited here tonight to bid on stolen history. But you are going to stay here to witness the dismantling of an empire. Every camera in this room is currently live-streaming directly to a secure, off-shore server. There are no blind spots. There is no negotiating."
I snapped my fingers.
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The lead tactical guard, a giant of a man with a scar cutting through his left eyebrow, stepped forward. He reached into his tactical vest and pulled out a thick, leather-bound tablet, handing it up to me.
"Let’s begin the interrogation," I smiled, tapping the screen.
