Chapter 9 - THE ULTIMATUM"Leverage?" Agent Vance's voice was ice, her finger resting lightly on the trigger. "You walked into a fortified compound uninvited. You have zero leverage here, Mr. Rossi."
David smiled, slowly sliding his hands into the pockets of his expensive wool coat. "Oh, I think I do. You see, Vance, when I faked my death fourteen months ago, I didn't just walk away with a new passport. I took every single financial ledger, offshore account number, and money-laundering trail belonging to the Volkov syndicate—encrypted files that Matteo has been trying to recover for over a year."
Elena stared at her husband, feeling as though she were looking at a stranger—a monster wearing the face of the man she had once loved. "You destroyed our life just to steal from the mafia?"
"I secured our future, Elena," David snapped, his calm facade cracking for a split second to reveal a flash of bitter arrogance. "And now, I'm cashing out. I want the ledger returned? Fine. But I want my wife back. And I want the baby as collateral to ensure Volkov doesn't double-cross me at the handoff."
"You're insane," Elena whispered, stepping back until she hit the ballistic glass window. "I am not property. I am not a bargaining chip!"
"You're my legal wife, Elena!" David shouted, taking a sharp step forward. "And that child belongs to Volkov—everyone in the underworld knows the beast's weakness now. Hand over the brat, and come with me, or I release every financial secret that will bring Matteo's entire empire crashing down in flames by midnight."
Before Elena could answer, the private elevator chimed again.
The doors slid open with absolute, terrifying silence.
Matteo Volkov stepped out.
He didn't have his coat on. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, his knuckles bruised and bloodied from whatever business he had just finished across the city. His dark eyes swept the room in a single, lightning-fast assessment: Vance holding a gun, David Rossi standing by the sofa, and Elena trembling with Katia in her arms.
The temperature in the room dropped thirty degrees.
Matteo didn't shout. He didn't draw a weapon. He simply walked forward, his footsteps echoing like slow hammer blows against the marble.
David turned to face him, a smug, dangerous smile playing on his lips. "Ah, the great Matteo Volkov. I was just telling your little pet—"
CRASH.
Matteo didn't let him finish. He crossed the distance between them with terrifying speed, his massive fist connecting straight with David's jaw with the force of a wrecking ball.
David crashed backward against the glass coffee table, shattering the tempered glass into a thousand glittering shards as he hit the floor, blood spraying from his split lip.
"You touch my family," Matteo murmured, his voice a low, lethal growl that vibrated through the floorboards, "and you don't even get to finish your sentence."
David spat a mouthful of blood, laughing weakly as he wiped his chin. "Hit me all you want, Volkov! Beat me to death! But if I don't walk out of this penthouse with my wife and that baby in twenty minutes, an automated dead-man's switch goes off, leaking every single offshore account you own to the FBI and every cartel in the Western Hemisphere."
Matteo froze. His fist, raised for a second blow, hovered in the air.
May you like
He looked slowly from David on the floor over to Elena, who stood frozen with Katia in her arms, tears streaming silently down her face.
The trap was set. The final choice had arrived.
