Chapter 22 - The Silent Watcher
Back in Manhattan, the morning sun cast long, golden beams across the hardwood floors of my penthouse office. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the steady flow of traffic along Central Park West while holding a fresh cup of dark roast coffee.
Marcus stepped out of the private elevator, his expression tight, holding a thick manila folder under his arm.
"We picked up a secure ping on the dark web, Sophia," Marcus said without preamble, laying the folder open on the mahogany conference table. "An encrypted communication thread originating from a burner node near the upstate federal facility."
I turned away from the window, walking slowly toward the table. "Alexander?"
"Not directly," Marcus replied, flipping open the folder to reveal a series of printed log transcripts and surveillance stills. "Someone visited him yesterday. A high-level operative tied to the remnants of the Eastern European syndicate—Victor Vance. He managed to evade federal wiretaps by using an analog burner frequency inside the visitor annex."
I looked down at the grainy photographs of Victor Vance leaving the prison parking lot. My expression remained calm, though a sharp edge of focus hardened in my mind. They weren't giving up. The hydra had lost its head in New York, but tentacles still thrashed in the shadows.
"They think Alexander is still a useful asset, or they're using him to send a message," I said quietly, tracing my finger along the edge of the desk.
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"Or," Marcus added, his tone grave, "they’re planning to use him as leverage to get to you. If they figure out a way to orchestrate a prison transfer or an escape, Alexander becomes a wild card."
"Let them try," I replied, a cold, unwavering resolve steadying my voice. "A cage is a cage, Marcus. But if they step out of the shadows to play in my city, we won't just clip their wings this time. We’ll bury them where they stand."
