Chapter 5 - The Hunt for Thomas Graves
Thomas Graves was sweating through his luxury trench coat. He stood in the shadows of a grimy parking garage by the docks, clutching a burner phone and a ferry ticket. He knew the Sterlings were ruthless, but Elias Thorne was a ghost who killed without leaving a trace.
Graves pulled the silver ring from his pocket, inspecting it under the flickering fluorescent light. He hadn't noticed the microscopic seam until he bumped against a metal railing, popping the inner band loose. The tiny, intricate vault key had slid out into his palm.
"A key to the kingdom," Graves muttered to himself. If he got to the bank first, he could blackmail the Sterlings for millions.
Suddenly, the lights in the garage cut out. Pitch black.
Graves froze, his breath hitching in his throat.
Footsteps echoed on the concrete. Slow, rhythmic, and terrifyingly calm.
"You have something that belongs to a very dear friend of mine, Thomas," Elias's voice drifted through the darkness, sounding as though it was coming from every direction at once.
"I—I don't have it!" Graves lied, stumbling backward and fumbling for his dropped briefcase.
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A flashlight clicked on, blinding him. Two massive men grabbed his arms, pinning him against a concrete pillar. Elias stepped into the light, holding a custom-engraved lighter. He flicked it open, the flame illuminating his cold, merciless eyes.
"Let's try this again, Thomas. And this time, remember that I am not restricted by the American Bar Association."
