Chapter 6 - The Traitor Within— Director Vance? Matthew’s voice dropped an octave, dripping with lethal disbelief.
The older man chuckled darkly, clutching his bleeding arm where Matthew had grazed him earlier.
— You thought you could tear down the syndicate from the inside, Matthew? Vance sneered, his eyes darting toward Elena before snapping back to his boss. — Isabel Vargas was just a pawn. But you? You were getting too close to the master accounts in Zurich.
Matthew didn't hesitate. He raised his weapon higher, his finger tightening on the trigger.
— Who is the buyer, Vance? Who authorized the hit on Arthur Vargas five years ago?
Vance smiled, a bloody, macabre grin.
— You’ll never find out, Carranza. The wire has already been transferred. And the girl... she was never meant to survive tonight.
Before Matthew could fire, Vance slammed his palm onto a hidden panic button embedded in his own wrist watch. A blinding flash grenade detonated from the ceiling vents, filling the penthouse with searing white light and deafening sound.
Elena screamed, throwing her hands over her eyes as the room spun.
When the white glare faded and her vision slowly returned, the penthouse was dead silent. Vance was gone, sliding down the emergency service chute before the security lockdown could re-engage.
Matthew stood in the center of the room, his breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts. The smoke cleared, revealing the utter devastation of his high-tech sanctuary.
He slowly lowered his weapon and turned toward Elena.
She was standing by the kitchen island, trembling from the adrenaline crash, still draped in his oversized coat. Her bare feet were stained with dust and glass, but her chin was held high. She wasn't the terrified girl who had pounded on his car window in the rain anymore.
— He mentioned Zurich, Elena said quietly, her voice cutting through the ringing silence. — My father had a safety deposit box in Zurich. He mentioned it in his journal the night before he died.
Matthew walked over to her, his expression unreadable, though the tension in his shoulders remained locked like steel cables.
— You read his journal?
— I memorized every word, Elena replied, looking straight into his eyes. — Isabel spent five years searching my room for it, but she never found it. Because I hid it inside the lining of my father's old leather Bible.
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Matthew stared at her for a long, heavy moment. Then, a slow, dangerous smile finally broke across his lips—a smile that promised absolute ruin to anyone who had ever crossed them.
— Pack a bag, Elena, Matthew said, his voice deep and resolute. — We’re going to Switzerland.
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