Chapter 9 - The Bounty
The mention of the bounty hung in the crisp mountain air like the smell of ozone before a lightning strike. Clara’s hand froze on Titan’s fur, her heart skipping a hard beat. Two hundred thousand dollars. In the poorer districts of the valley where she had lived, men would kill their own brothers for a tenth of that money.
"He put a hit out on me?" Clara whispered, her voice trembling as she looked up at Julian. "For a broken bridal gala?"
"It isn't about the gala, Clara," Julian said, standing up smoothly from the stone planter, his demeanor shifting instantly back into the cold, calculating syndicate boss. "It’s about power. Richard Vance has ruled this valley’s real estate market for thirty years by intimidating anyone who defied him. I publicly humiliated his daughter in front of fifty of his most valuable political and financial allies, and I cut off his access to my shipping ports. He is losing millions every day my ports remain closed to his construction imports."
He walked over to Clara, kneeling on one knee so they were at eye level. He took her slightly trembling hand in his, his grip firm, warm, and entirely reassuring.
"Richard is trying to use you to draw me out," Julian explained calmly. "He thinks if his street associates can threaten or kidnap the woman I brought into my home, I will trade the port permits to get her back. He thinks you are my weakness."
"Am I?" she asked, looking deep into his eyes. "Am I a liability to your empire, Julian?"
Julian squeezed her hand, his thumb tracing the back of her knuckles. "You are not a liability, Clara. You are the only thing in this valley that is clean. And I would burn every port I own to ash before I let a single one of Richard Vance’s men breathe the same air as you."
He stood up, turning to Marcus with a terrifying, military precision. "Lock down the estate. Level three security protocols. No vehicles enter or leave without my personal biometric clearance. Double the perimeter guards in the woods."
"Already moving on it, boss," Marcus said. "What about the city council injunction?"
"Let Richard play his legal games," Julian sneered, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. "I want you to contact our people at the longshoremen's union and the freight drivers' syndicate. Call a total, immediate strike on every supply line moving into Vance Enterprises' construction sites. Stop his concrete, stop his steel, stop his lumber. By tomorrow morning, I want Richard Vance bleeding so much money he can't afford to pay his own electric bill, let alone a street bounty."
"Yes, sir," Marcus grinned, turning to speak into his radio as he marched back toward the command wing.
Julian looked down at Clara, who was still kneeling beside the sleeping hound. "Come inside, Clara. Carmen has dinner prepared in the main dining room, and then I want to show you the security arrangements for your cottage."
"Julian," Clara said, standing up slowly with the help of the stone planter, her swollen knee throbbing. "Why don't you just give him what he wants? The port permits. If you give him the permits, he’ll call off the bounty. You won't have to start a war over me."
May you like
Julian stopped at the threshold of the glass doors, turning back to look at her against the backdrop of the darkening mountain forest.
"I spent ten years building an organization that answers to no one, Clara," Julian said, his voice quiet but echoing with absolute, unshakeable resolve. "If I allow a man like Richard Vance to dictate who I can protect under my own roof, then everything I built is worthless. You are under my care now. And no one takes what is mine."
