Chapter 4 - The Price of Betrayal“You look terrible, Julian,” I said, my voice cutting through the damp warehouse air like a razor.
Each step I took forward was a battle against my own atrophy, the steel braces clanking softly with every mechanical movement. I kept my Sig Sauer leveled at the center of his chest, my eyes locked on his unblemished right eye.
Julian let out a low, raspy chuckle, swirling the whiskey in his glass. He didn't look afraid. In fact, he looked triumphant.
“A little fire tends to ruin the complexion,” Julian replied smoothly, tracing a scarred finger along his jawline. “Eight years in the dark, Caleb. Eight years of breathing smoke, eating dirt, and watching you build an empire on the grave of the woman we both loved. Tell me... how do my legs feel? Heavy? Numb? Or is the phantom guilt of Audrey’s death finally burning your soles?”
“Audrey died because of your reckless ambition,” I spat, closing the distance until I was ten feet away. Markus covered my flank, scanning the catwalks above for snipers. “You rigged the brakes on that car, Julian. You thought if you killed me, she’d be yours. Instead, she swerved to miss the blast and hit the bridge abutment.”
Julian’s smile vanished. The glass in his hand cracked, amber liquid spilling over his knuckles.
“Liar!” Julian hissed, finally rising from his chair. He was thinner than I remembered, warped by bitterness and surgical reconstruction, but his eyes burned with pure malice. “I loved her, Caleb! You treated her like a trophy for your display case while I gave her my soul! And when she tried to leave you that night, you locked her in! I tried to save her!”
“She never tried to leave me!” I roared back, the fury of eight years breaking loose.
Before Julian could answer, the red laser dots of a dozen sniper rifles suddenly painted our chests.
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From the shadows above, twenty heavily armed mercenaries stepped onto the catwalks, their assault rifles aimed directly down at Markus and me.
Julian threw his head back and laughed, the sound hollow and manic. “Did you really think I’d come alone, old friend? You walked right into the mausoleum.”
