Chapter 3 - The Broken CircuitThe south gate was three hundred yards down a gravel service road, sheltered by a dense wall of weeping willows that cut off the estate from the main coastal highway. At night, it was a blind spot—unless you knew how to override the secondary relays.
Julian and Camille walked side by side through the mist, their footsteps muffled by the wet turf. Rex walked slightly ahead, a ghost-hound melting into the shadows, his nose low to the damp earth.
There was no sound except the distant crash of the Atlantic against the cliff base below the estate.
"He's here," Camille whispered, stopping near the base of the stone pillar that housed the master electrical box.
Julian raised a gloved hand. Through the iron bars of the gate, a sleek black sedan was idling on the shoulder of the highway. Its lights were off. A single figure leaned against the fender, smoking a cigarette that glowed a dim, angry orange in the dark.
Bennett Cole.
Julian didn't draw a weapon. He didn't need to. He stepped out from the shelter of the willows, his voice carrying clearly over the gravel.
"Looking for a late-night breeze, Bennett?"
Bennett didn't jump. He dropped the cigarette, ground it out slowly beneath his heel, and turned around. In the dim light of the highway sodium lamps, his face looked carved from lard. But there was no panic in his eyes—only a cold, calculated certainty.
"You took your time, Julian," Bennett said, his voice smooth as glass. "I was wondering when you'd figure out the books didn't balance."
"You've been skimming the Marseille line for six months," Julian said, closing the distance slowly. "Rookie numbers, Bennett. I let it slide because you were efficient. But selling the manifest to the Moretti family? That’s not skimming. That’s treason."
"Treason?" Bennett let out a sharp, barking laugh. "Julian, this is a criminal enterprise, not a kingdom. You got old. You started softening up the moment you let that woman and her brat into the house. You haven't executed a rival capo in fourteen months. You're playing domestic house-husband while the syndicate bleeds out from under you."
"Is that why you opened the gate?" Julian asked. "Are the Morettis waiting down the road?"
Bennett smiled, a wide, gleaming slash of white teeth. "Not the Morettis, Julian. Federal agents with a full RICO warrant, backed by three squads of state police. They'll be through this gate in exactly four minutes. They have every bank account number, every offshore routing code, and your personal signature on three dozen wire transfers to shell corporations in the Caymans."
Julian stopped ten feet away. His expression didn't change. "You think the Feds are going to save you, Bennett? You think they care that you ratted me out? You're an accessory to twenty murders."
"I signed an immunity deal yesterday morning," Bennett said, his voice dropping into a triumphant hiss. "I walk away with a new name, a passport, and five million dollars stashed in a Swiss account that you were too blind to notice missing. You're going away for the rest of your natural life, Julian. And this house? It’s going to be seized by the state before sunrise."
A sudden, sharp rustle cut through the brush behind them.
May you like
Bennett didn't even have time to turn around.
Rex didn't growl this time. He didn't bark. He launched himself out of the darkness like a missile made of muscle and fury, slamming directly into Bennett’s chest and sending him crashing hard onto the gravel road.
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