Chapter 6 - Enter the Predator
The heavy, rhythmic thud of polished leather boots echoed against the stone floor. The atmosphere in the room instantly shifted, growing suffocatingly dense.
"That's enough, Julian," a harsh, rasping voice boomed from the doorway.
Julian. The man standing behind Anaëlle finally had a name.
"She opened the second lock, Hector," Julian replied smoothly, his voice instantly transforming back into the cold, arrogant tone of a mercenary. "She’s useful. Just as I promised."
Anaëlle sat frozen on the bench, the blindfold concealing her eyes, but her ears picking up every tiny detail. She heard the faint sound of a metal cane tapping against the floor as Hector Vance approached the piano.
"A pretty little thing," Hector rasped, stopping right beside her. She felt the chill of his presence, the foul stench of cheap cigars and stale whiskey replacing Julian's refined cologne. "Looks just like her mother. Tell me, girl... do you know who I am?"
"No," Anaëlle whispered, maintaining her act of a terrified, helpless musician. "I don't know anything! This man... he brought me here... he threatened me..."
Hector chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. "Julian is very effective at threatening people. But I am the one who pays his salary. And I am getting impatient."
She felt a cold, metallic object touch the side of her temple—the barrel of a handgun.
"Play the final movement," Hector ordered flatly. "Unlock the final compartment and hand over my ledger, or I splash your brain across these nice white keys."
"Hector," Julian’s voice cut through the air, dangerously sharp. "If you kill her now, the acoustic safety lock will permanently seal the drive. Only her specific pressure and timing can unlock the final tumbler. Put the gun away."
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A long, agonizing tension gripped the room. Finally, the cold steel was lifted from her head.
"You have five minutes," Hector growled. "Or you both die in this room."
