Chapter 5 - The Summit of Wolves
Three days later, four thousand miles away in a high-rise glass monolith overlooking Zurich’s financial district, Julian Sterling swirled a glass of twenty-year-old single malt whiskey.
His desk phone buzzed. He pressed the speaker button with an immaculate fingernail.
"Sir," his executive assistant’s voice trembled slightly. "We have a severe problem regarding the Vance asset transfer."
Julian’s eyes narrowed. "Explain."
"The courier—Claire Dupond—was intercepted at O'Hare by federal marshals. Furthermore, the three million dollar escrow account has been seized by a federal injunction. And worse... the children are missing."
Julian slammed his whiskey glass down, splashing amber liquid across the mahogany desktop. "Missing? What do you mean missing? Where are they?"
"Our informants in Chicago say they were taken by private security... led by Ryker Steel."
The name hit Julian like a physical blow. The color drained from his face. Ryker Steel. The phantom logistics tycoon who didn't play by corporate rules, the man who had dismantled half the illegal weapons pipeline in Eastern Europe just because it interfered with his shipping lanes.
"Ryker Steel has the kids?" Julian hissed, standing up so fast his chair rolled backward into the glass wall. "Why would The Steel give a damn about two penniless orphans?"
Before his assistant could answer, the office lights flickered violently.
Then, every monitor on Julian’s executive desk—six ultra-high-definition screens displaying global stock charts and secure conference feeds—simultaneously went completely black.
A single line of crisp, glowing green text appeared across every screen:
JULIAN STERLING. YOU HAVE FORTY-EIGHT HOURS TO SURRENDER EVERY PATENT, CONTRACT, AND ASSET STOLEN FROM ARTHUR VANCE. OR THE STEEL COMES FOR YOU.
Julian stared at the screens, his breath catching in his throat. He reached frantically for his encrypted panic button, pressing it three times.
Nothing happened. The building's entire communication grid had been systematically firewalled and locked down by a digital intelligence so advanced it made his corporate cybersecurity look like a child’s toy.
In the heavy silence of his panic-stricken office, the secure private intercom on his desk suddenly chimed—a single, sharp ring.
Julian’s shaking hand reached out and pressed the receiver.
"Hello?" he choked out.
May you like
A voice answered from the other end of the line—cold, calm, and carrying the absolute authority of an executioner.
"You took a good man's life, Julian," Ryker Steel’s voice echoed through the speaker. "And you tried to throw his children into the trash. Now, I am coming to collect everything you own—and then, I am coming for you."
