Chapter 3 - The Price of ProtectionI dropped back into the armchair, my legs suddenly too weak to hold me. The room spun slightly.
"What offer?" I choked out, staring up at the mafia boss who held the absolute power of life and death over the two remaining members of my family.
Luca walked back to his desk, picked up the manila folder, and tossed it onto my lap. I flipped it open with trembling fingers. Inside were forged identity papers, brand-new passports, airline tickets to Zurich, and a bank account routing number showing a starting balance of five hundred thousand dollars.
"Clean breaks," Luca said smoothly, sitting on the edge of the desk and crossing his arms. "New names, new lives, zero paper trail. In forty-eight hours, a private cargo freighter leaves for Europe from my private terminal. You and Sofia get on it. You disappear. You never look back. The Triad will spend the rest of their lives chasing ghosts."
I stared at the passports. My photo was there, but the name was different. Sofia’s photo was there, too—looking pale, but alive.
Half a million dollars. A ticket out of this hellscape. It was everything a broke twenty-two-year-old bartender working double shifts could ever dream of to save his little sister.
So why did my stomach twist into knots?
"What's the catch?" I asked, looking straight into his eyes. "Men like you don't hand out half a million dollars and international sanctuary out of the goodness of your heart, Luca. What do you want in return?"
A slow, dangerous smile touched the corner of Luca's lips. It wasn't warm; it was the smile of a predator who appreciated it when his prey finally started using their brain.
"Sharp," Luca murmured. "Very sharp. No, I don't give charity. The catch is simple: Sofia is the only living eyewitness to Webb's murder, but she isn't the one who can decrypt the files Webb managed to send out before he died."
I frowned, confused. "What files? Sofia doesn't know anything about computers, she's fourteen!"
"Not her. You," Luca corrected, pointing a finger at my chest. "Two years ago, before your parents died and you dropped out of MIT to work three jobs to support your sister, you were top of your class in cybersecurity and cryptographic architecture. You designed an encrypted dead-switch protocol called Janus."
My blood ran ice cold. I hadn't spoken about MIT to anyone in years. I had buried that life so deep I almost forgot I used to be a brilliant programmer before medical bills and rent ate my future alive.
"How do you know that?" I whispered.
"I know everything about the people who walk into my bar, Julian," Luca said smoothly. "Especially the ones who serve me bourbon without watering it down and look like they're carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. District Attorney Webb was using an off-the-grid server protected by an encryption key variant of Janus. The Triad has the hardware, but they don't have the key. And they can't crack it without the architect."
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He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees.
"You unlock Webb’s encrypted files for me, expose the corrupt politicians and Triad commanders on that drive, and I give you the passports, the money, and an army to protect your sister until the day you die," Luca said. "Refuse, and I throw you both out onto the street right now. Let's see how long a fourteen-year-old girl with blood on her skirt lasts against men who skinned a district attorney."
