Chapter 8 - The Reunion of WolvesJulian Vance stepped into the study, his movements unhurried, like a guest arriving late to a dinner party where his seat was already reserved. He adjusted the lapel of his black tuxedo, looking around the opulent room with faint, nostalgic amusement.
"Magnificent room, Alessandro," Julian said, his voice smooth and aged like cheap bourbon. "Your father had terrible taste in wallpaper, but you managed to modernize the space without losing the oppressive weight of the family crest. I appreciate that."
Alessandro didn't raise his weapon immediately. He kept the Glock resting casually against his thigh, his posture relaxed, though every muscle in his frame was coiled like a steel spring.
"You've aged, Julian," Alessandro replied smoothly. "The men who hide behind children usually do. They tend to rot from the inside out."
Julian chuckled softly, stepping further into the room while his four operatives fanned out, keeping their gun sights locked on Alessandro and Sophia. "A child is the only honest creature left in a world built on lies, my boy. Little Emma didn't know she was delivering a death sentence; she thought she was playing a game. Isn't it poetic? The bloodline you thought you stamped out in ninety-four is the very instrument that unlocked your front door tonight."
"Where is she?" Alessandro asked. The question was a physical blow, heavy and flat.
Julian smiled, tilting his head. "Safe. For the next twenty minutes, anyway. Unless, of course, you sign over the Mediterranean shipping ports and the entire Moretti holding trust to the Syndicate tribunal before the digital timer reaches zero."
Sophia rose slowly from the floor, her face wet with tears but her eyes suddenly burning with a cold, desperate fire. She didn't look at Julian; she looked straight at Alessandro.
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"Don't do it," she whispered. "The moment you sign, he executes her anyway. I saw the orders on his terminal in Boston. There was never an exchange. It was an execution disguised as a trade."
Julian’s smile didn't fade, but his eyes hardened into chips of slate. He slowly raised his pistol, aiming it directly at Sophia’s forehead. "A pity. She was always too clever for her own good. Shall we begin the execution with the fiancée, Alessandro, or would you prefer to watch the paperwork burn first?"
