Chapter 6: The Ghost in the Organization
The realization that the betrayal ran all the way into my inner sanctum turned the blood in my veins to liquid nitrogen.
I didn't speak. I simply walked over to the gun rack hidden behind the false bookcase, pulling out a sleek, black tactical rifle. Vincent immediately began checking the security feeds of the estate, locking down the external perimeter gates, isolating the main house from the outer guard posts.
"Who was on duty at the house terminal when the hospital call went through, Vincent?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm.
"Marcus," Vincent whispered, his jaw clenching. "Marcus Vance. My own cousin. I put him on the logs myself, Boss. I swear to God I didn't know."
Marcus. He had been with the Moretti family for seven years, a kid from the neighborhood whom I had trusted to manage the digital security protocols for our private properties. He had access to every encrypted frequency, every blind spot in our camera network.
"Where is he now?"
"He's in the basement server room," Vincent said, his hands trembling slightly as he loaded his weapon. "He thinks he's clearing the log files before the central audit registers the anomaly."
"Elena, stay here," I commanded, turning toward the door.
"No," she said, stepping into my path, her eyes burning with that same fearless fire I had seen in Room 412. "Marcus knows the server room layout, but he doesn't know the master electrical overrides. If he realizes you're coming, he can wipe the backup drives and lock you out using the pneumatic security doors. I know how the system is wired. I can cut the main breaker to the server room from the utility closet across the hall before he can hit the delete sequence."
I stared at her for two long seconds. She was a civilian, a woman who should have been running from the violence of my world. And yet, she was consistently proving to be the most effective weapon in my arsenal.
"Do it," I said. "Vincent, cover the service elevator."
Three minutes later, the basement of the Alpine estate plunged into total, pitch-black darkness as Elena threw the master industrial breakers in the utility closet.
The heavy, pneumatic security doors of the server room whistled loudly, losing their air pressure and sliding open automatically as part of the estate’s emergency fire protocols.
Marcus Vance never saw us coming.
Before he could pull his weapon in the dark, Vincent had him pinned against the concrete wall, his forearm pressed hard against his cousin’s throat while my tactical light illuminated his sweating, terrified face.
"Why, Marcus?" I asked, stepping into the small room, the beam of my light reflecting off the rows of silent, dark server towers. "I gave you a life. I gave you a future."
"Rostov... Rostov has my sister, Mr. Moretti," Marcus sobbed, his legs shaking beneath him. "He... he said if I didn't give him the hospital security schedules and the house codes, he’d send her back to me in pieces. I didn't have a choice! I didn't want to hurt Daniel!"
"You put a pillow over a six-year-old boy's face, Marcus," I said, my voice dropping into a register that made the boy completely freeze. "You always have a choice."
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I didn't pull the trigger. Death was too clean a debt for a man who tried to kill my blood.
"Vincent," I said, turning away. "Take him to the kennel. Hand him over to the state police with the encrypted drive showing his financial logs with Rostov. Let the feds dismantle his life piece by piece. But before he goes... I want the coordinates of Rostov’s primary safehouse in Queens."
