Chapter 8 - The Traitor's Price
Silas didn't confront Thorne immediately. Instead, he watched him. He monitored Thorne's encrypted communications and realized the Russian was right. Thorne had been selling blind spots in the security grid to the Volkov cartel to pay off massive gambling debts.
That evening, Silas called Thorne to the western pavilion. The air was freezing, the sky pitch black. Thorne arrived looking nervous, his hand resting on his holstered sidearm.
"You wanted to see me, boss?" Thorne asked, glancing warily at the crushed steel troughs and snapped cables scattered around the pavilion.
Silas stepped out from the shadows. Beside him stood Bane, perfectly still. "You did a good job finding that flash drive, Thorne. But you made a mistake. You told Dimitri Volkov it was here."
Thorne’s face drained of color. He drew his weapon, but he was far too slow. Silas didn't even flinch. He just issued a single, sharp whistle.
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Bane moved faster than the human eye could track. The dog tackled Thorne to the ground, his massive jaws snapping the man’s forearm like a twig, sending the gun clattering across the frost-covered tiles. Thorne screamed in agony, begging for mercy.
"In my syndicate, betrayal has one price," Silas said coldly, turning his back on the traitor. "Handle it, Bane."
