Chapter 13 - THE PRICE OF EXILE
"You think a few frozen accounts give you the right to walk into my archive?" Dominic stood up slowly, his height and old authority filling the room, pushing back against Victor's polished veneer.
"I don't think. I know," Victor said, his smile vanishing, replaced by the cold, dead eyes of a predator who viewed human lives as currency. He snapped his fingers twice.
From the dark stairwell, four men in tactical gear stepped into the room, their suppressed automatic weapons leveled directly at Dominic’s chest.
"Ronan was a brute," Victor continued, adjusting his silk scarf. "He thought fear was an empire. But fear is messy. Money, Dominic—clean, digital, untraceable money—that is the only true throne. And you are standing directly in the way of my coronation."
Before Victor could finish his sentence, a metallic click echoed from the darkness behind him.
"Drop the guns," a cold, steady voice rang out.
Victor blinked, slowly turning his head to look back. Maren stood just three paces behind him, holding a heavy-caliber pistol with both hands, the barrel pressed firmly against the base of his skull. She hadn't made a sound when she moved.
The four tactical guards froze, their fingers twitching nervously on their triggers, unsure whether to fire on Dominic or protect their employer.
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"A child?" Victor chuckled nervously, though a bead of sweat broke out on his forehead. "Surely, Shaw, you haven't resorted to hiding behind schoolgirls?"
"She isn't hiding," Dominic said softly, stepping around the oak table. "She’s hunting."
