Chapter 14 - Shadows of the PastDeep within the federal penitentiary eighty miles inland, away from the glittering towers of the city and the crashing waves of the Pacific, the high-security holding wing was a labyrinth of gray concrete, steel bars, and perpetual artificial light.
In cell 402, sitting on a narrow metal cot with his head buried in his hands, sat a man whose once-immaculate tailored suits were now replaced by standard orange prison denim. His hair was unkempt, his face hollowed out by days of isolation and the crushing realization of total defeat.
The heavy steel door clanked open. Two armed federal marshals stepped aside.
A tall figure walked into the dim cell, his dark wool coat brushing against the concrete floor. Declan Shaw stopped just inches from the cot, his cold obsidian eyes looking down at the broken man.
Viktor—once the untouchable commander of Vanguard’s elite enforcement wing—slowly raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot, filled with a mixture of terror and lingering defiance.
"Shaw," Viktor rasped, his voice cracked from disuse. "You think locking me away in a federal box solves anything? The syndicates in Europe... they know what you did. They’ll come for you. They’ll—"
"They won't come for anything," Declan interrupted, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "Because Europe doesn't care about a corpse wrapped in a Vanguard uniform. I didn't come here to threaten you, Viktor. I came to give you a piece of information."
Viktor narrowed his eyes, wincing as the harsh light hit his face. "What information?"
"Marcus Senior tried to flee the country last night through the private airstrip in Vermont," Declan said, leaning in slightly. "His private jet didn't make it past the state line. An unfortunate mechanical failure, the local authorities called it. Engine fire. No survivors."
Viktor’s face drained of every remaining trace of color. His breath hitched in his throat, his hands trembling violently against the edge of the cot. "You... you had him killed..."
"I didn't touch him," Declan corrected softly. "When you build an empire out of betrayal and greed, your foundation is made of sand. Marcus spent his entire life stepping on everyone around him to reach the top. It shouldn't surprise you that when he slipped, nobody reached out a hand to catch him."
Declan turned toward the open cell door, pausing on the threshold without looking back.
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"Enjoy the quiet, Viktor," Declan said over his shoulder. "You’ll have plenty of time to think about what happens when you mistake a wolf's patience for weakness."
The heavy steel door slammed shut with a definitive, echoing clang, plunging the cell back into absolute silence.
