Chapter 7 - The Syndicate's Eye
The peace of the nursery didn't last the afternoon. At four o'clock, while Clara was sitting on the rug helping Leo build a wooden tower, the encrypted phone in Julian’s pocket vibrated with a sharp, insistent buzz.
He stepped toward the floor-to-ceiling windows to answer it. Clara watched his back stiffen, the broad muscles of his shoulders tensing under his dark shirt as he listened to the voice on the other end.
"When?" Julian asked, his tone dropping into the freezing register that made men tremble. "Where was the breach?"
He listened for another ten seconds, then disconnected the line without saying goodbye. He turned around, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Clara.
"Get the children into their coats," Julian said, his voice clipped and urgent. "We’re leaving the building in five minutes."
Clara’s heart spiked. "Why? What happened? Julian, what’s going on?"
"Dr. Thorne made a phone call before my men confiscated his personal devices," Julian said, striding over to the nursery closet and pulling out three heavy winter jackets. "He didn't call his lawyer. He called Victor Volkov."
Clara felt a chill run down her spine. "Who is Volkov?"
"The man who runs the northern syndicate," Julian said, handing her Maya’s coat. "My primary competitor. Volkov has been trying to force a merger of our shipping networks for three years. He’s been looking for leverage against me—something that would force me to sign over the port authorities."
Julian knelt, methodically zipping Leo into his jacket with practiced efficiency. "Thorne just sold him the truth, Clara. Volkov now knows that the Vance heirs are biological bastards born to a coffee shop waitress, and he knows that the woman who gave birth to them is currently sitting in my penthouse without a security detail."
"He... he would hurt the babies?" Clara gasped, clutching Lily to her chest.
"Volkov would kill everyone in this tower if it got him a signature on a maritime lease," Julian said coldly, pulling a compact, matte-black Glock from his ankle holster and checking the magazine before sliding it into the waistband of his trousers. "My tower is compromised. Thorne had access to our architectural schematics through the clinic's emergency pediatric protocols. We are moving to my secure compound in the hills. Right now."
May you like
Before Clara could process the reality of being hunted by an underworld syndicate, the heavy mahogany doors of the nursery burst open. Reynolds stood in the threshold, an assault rifle slung across his tactical vest, his face streaked with sweat.
"Boss," Reynolds said, his breathing shallow. "We have three unidentified vans blocking the underground exit ramps. The elevators just went into manual override from the basement level. They're inside the building."
