Chapter 6 - The Breakfast of WolvesThe penthouse suite atop the Costa Tower overlooked the sprawling expanse of the city as dawn began to bleed a sickly bruised purple across the skyline. Below, the early morning traffic crawled like ants along wet concrete, completely oblivious to the tectonic shift taking place in the underworld above.
Vivien sat at the massive marble dining table, wearing a silk robe of deep emerald green, sipping black coffee from a delicate bone-china cup. Across from her, Edmund reviewed a stack of printed financial reports that Tommy had delivered thirty minutes prior.
The heavy mahogany doors swung open without a knock.
A tall, impeccably tailored man in a charcoal Brioni suit strode into the room, his silver hair combed back with military precision, carrying an aura of absolute entitlement.
Mayor Alistair Vance didn't look like a man who took bribes; he looked like a man who handed them out from a pulpit.
"Costa," Vance barked, not waiting for an invitation as he pulled out a chair opposite Edmund and sat down heavily. "What the hell is the meaning of this? My chief of police tells me you locked up Carmine Vale in some basement last night over a stray bullet at your wedding reception. Do you have any idea what kind of political fallout—"
"Have a seat, Alistair," Edmund interrupted without looking up from his papers. "Or better yet, shut your mouth and pour yourself some coffee before your blood pressure finishes the job Carmine's sniper started."
Vance’s face flushed a mottled crimson. He slammed both palms onto the marble table, rattling the china. "I am the mayor of this city! You do not speak to me like one of your street-level thugs! I made you! I gave you the zoning clearance for the Northside docks!"
"You didn't make anything," a cool, melodic voice cut across the table.
Vance blinked, as if only just noticing Vivien sitting at the corner of the table. He narrowed his eyes, sneering slightly. "And who the hell is this? The new acquisition? Tell your little bride to stay out of grown-up business, Edmund, before she finds herself floating face-down in the harbor."
Before Edmund could even twitch a muscle, Vivien stood up.
She walked slowly around the marble table, her silk robe whispering against the floor, until she stood directly behind Mayor Vance’s chair. She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear as if sharing a secret between old friends.
"Mr. Mayor," she whispered, her voice like ice water sliding down a bare spine. "You might want to check page forty-two of Ledger 414 before you make threats about the harbor."
Vance froze. Every drop of color vanished from his face, leaving him looking like a corpse dug up from a shallow grave. He slowly turned his head, his eyes wide with unadulterated terror.
"What... what did you say?"
Vivien straightened up, resting her hand lightly on the back of his chair, looking down at him with an expression of absolute, crushing pity.
"Three hundred thousand dollars from a Caymans shell company," she recited smoothly, as if reading from a menu. "Funneled through Carmine’s account on October 14th, in exchange for signing off on the municipal waste contracts. Plus the hush money paid to the precinct captain after the warehouse fire three years ago."
Vance looked from Vivien to Edmund, his chest heaving as he tried to drag air into lungs that suddenly felt entirely useless.
May you like
"You... you took the safety deposit box," Vance choked out.
"We audited it," Edmund corrected softly, finally looking up from his papers. His pale eyes locked onto the mayor with the flat, unblinking stare of a shark smelling blood in the water. "And right now, Alistair, you have exactly ten seconds to decide whether you want to resign due to 'sudden health reasons' or spend the rest of your natural life in a federal penitentiary sharing a cell with Carmine."
