Chapter 8 - The UltimatumBefore Grant could answer, the piercing glare of high-beam headlights suddenly flooded the pier.
Four black SUVs roared down Pier 4, screeching to a halt in a violent arc that blocked off the exit. Doors flew open, and a dozen heavily armed mercenaries—men wearing unmarked tactical gear and carrying submachine guns—poured out, surrounding them instantly.
From the lead SUV stepped Viktor, Grant’s former European director, flanked by two armed guards. He held a silver-plated pistol, a cruel, triumphant grin plastered across his face.
"Well, well, well," Viktor shouted over the roaring engine noise, stepping closer with a swagger. "The great Grant Mercer, reduced to standing on a freezing dock with his runaway accountant. Romance is truly dead."
Marcus rushed forward from the shadows with his tactical unit, weapons drawn, but Viktor raised his hand, gesturing toward a sniper laser dot flickering directly onto Marcus’s forehead from a distant rooftop.
"Don't even think about it, Marcus," Viktor sneered. "I’ve got snipers covering every inch of this pier. Mercer Holdings is mine now. The European board voted me in yesterday afternoon. All I need to do is clean up a few loose ends—starting with the fallen king and his favorite pet."
Grant didn't look at Viktor. His eyes never left Evelyn, who stood beside him, completely calm despite the circle of armed men closing in.
"You think a board vote makes you a boss, Viktor?" Grant asked, his voice dropping into a dangerous, lethal quiet that made Viktor pause.
"It makes me the guy holding the gun, Grant! You're broke, powerless, and surrounded!" Viktor raised his pistol, aiming directly at Grant’s chest. "Any last words before I take your empire and your life?"
Grant slowly turned his head to look at Viktor, a cold, terrifying smirk touching the corner of his lips.
"You forgot one rule about my empire, Viktor," Grant said softly.
Viktor frowned. "What rule?"
"I didn't build it with paper," Grant said.
Suddenly, the red laser dots on the rooftops didn't belong to Viktor's snipers anymore. Dozens of glowing red dots flickered across the chests of Viktor’s mercenaries from every surrounding crane, rooftop, and warehouse window.
Marcus grinned fiercely, lowering his weapon slightly. "Surprise, Viktor. The Chicago and New York capos aren't the only ones who remember who feeds them."
Viktor’s face drained of all color. "No... that's impossible. Your accounts are frozen!"
"My corporate accounts were frozen," Grant said, taking a slow step toward Viktor as his men closed the trap. "My personal cash reserves? Evelyn didn't steal them to destroy me. She hid them in an untouchable trust overseas... waiting for the exact moment every traitor in my ranks stepped out of the shadows."
Viktor panicked, screaming, "Shoot them! Kill them both!"
Before Viktor could pull his trigger, a deafening volley of suppressed gunfire erupted from the rooftops. Viktor’s guards dropped their weapons and hit the concrete.
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Marcus stepped forward, sweeping Viktor’s legs out from under him and slamming him face-first onto the frozen pavement, pressing a boot directly into the back of his neck.
Silence descended on the pier once more, save for the wind and the sound of waves.
