Chapter 6 - THE PRICE OF SURVIVALMarcus raised the metal pipe, his knuckles whitening with tension. "If you had just stayed down, cleaned your rooms, and kept your mouth shut like every other peasant in this hotel, you would have had your paycheck. Now..."
"You think killing us in the basement of the Whitcomb Grand is going to erase what’s on those servers upstairs?" a cold voice echoed from the end of the dark corridor.
Marcus froze.
Stepping out from the shadows near the freight elevator, cane tapping rhythmically against the concrete floor, was Theo Kane.
He wasn't alone. Behind him stood two federal agents in dark suits, their badges catching the harsh fluorescent light, flanked by four local police officers with their service weapons drawn and ready.
Marcus’s face lost all color. He looked down at the pipe in his hand, then back at the federal marshals blocking every possible exit from the basement.
"Marcus Vance," one of the agents called out sharply, dropping his hand to his holster. "Drop the weapon. You’re under federal arrest for wire fraud, corporate embezzlement, and attempted kidnapping."
"You can't prove anything!" Marcus yelled, his voice cracking with panic. He lunged sideways toward the emergency exit, raising the pipe.
It was a fatal mistake.
Odessa didn't even think. She swept her foot across the concrete floor, catching Marcus squarely behind the ankle as he ran past.
Marcus let out a roar of rage and pain as he tripped hard, slamming face-first into the concrete floor. The heavy leather briefcase flew from his grip, scattering dozens of printed financial documents across the dirty tiles.
Before Marcus could push himself back up, the two federal agents were on top of him, slamming him into the floor and clicking the steel handcuffs around his wrists.
As they hauled Marcus to his feet, he glared back at Odessa with pure venom. "You think you won? Julian Sterling is still sitting on the board. The entire executive committee is his. They’ll bury you both before the sun comes up!"
"Julian Sterling is currently being escorted out of the Whitcomb Grand in handcuffs as we speak," a calm, chillingly pleasant voice rang out.
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From the elevator came a tall woman in a sharp executive pantsuit—Elena Rostova, the chief legal counsel of Kane Hospitality Group from the New York headquarters, whom Theo had quietly flown in on a private jet three hours ago.
Julian Sterling had already been neutralized. The empire was taking its cleansing breath.
