Chapter 4 - THE GRAND MERIDIAN INVITATIONThe Grand Meridian Hotel was a monolith of marble, gold leaf, and corporate corruption. Tonight, the penthouse ballroom was lit like a Hollywood gala, hosting every crooked judge, corrupt police captain, and high-ranking lieutenant in the city. They were all gathered to toast the new king: Victor Cole.
Standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the glittering skyline, Victor raised a crystal glass of twenty-year-old scotch, a smug, triumphant grin plastered across his face.
"To family," Victor announced to the assembled crowd of two hundred elites, his voice booming through the ballroom's sound system. "To the visionaries who realize that sentimentality is a weakness, and that true power belongs to those bold enough to seize it."
The crowd applauded, sycophants rushing forward to clink their glasses against his. Victor basked in the warmth of absolute victory. He had eliminated Marcus, secured the ports, and bought off the city council. Nothing could touch him now.
Or so he thought.
Down in the subterranean service tunnels beneath the Grand Meridian, three figures moved like ghosts through the shadows.
Marcus wore a tailored charcoal suit that Miller had scavenged from a dead high-roller—it was a bit tight across his bandaged ribs, but it held him together. He carried a suppressed Kimber 1911 tucked neatly into his waistband, his face carved from cold granite.
Beside him walked Iris, wearing a simple black hoodie that swallowed her frame, her hands tucked deep into her pockets. And leading the way, silent as a phantom despite his massive size, was Sovereign.
"The freight elevator code hasn't changed in ten years," Marcus muttered, typing a six-digit sequence into the digital keypad beside the heavy steel doors. "Victor was always too lazy to update the security protocols I installed."
"Laziness is a fatal flaw," Iris remarked quietly, watching the numbers flash green.
The heavy doors slid open with a soft hiss, revealing the back hallways of the hotel’s kitchen level. Waiters rushed past with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres, entirely unaware that the ghost of the syndicate had just walked through their kitchen door.
"How do you want to play this?" Miller's voice crackled through their encrypted earpieces from the bunker. "I’ve looped the security cameras on floors forty through forty-two, but you’ve only got a ten-minute window before the system auto-reboots and flags the override."
May you like
Marcus looked down at Iris. The little girl didn't look like she was about to infiltrate a fortress of armed killers. She looked like she was heading to the corner store for candy.
"We don't shoot our way in," Marcus said, his eyes hard. "We let them know we're already inside before they even see us coming."
