Chapter 8 - The Interrogation in the DarkThe underground basement beneath the Cross estate—once used by Damon for storing rare wines—had been converted into a high-security interrogation room. The stone walls echoed with the dripping of water and the ragged, terrified breathing of a man tied securely to a heavy steel chair.
The intruder’s mask had been ripped away, revealing the scarred, sweat-slicked face of a man Elena had never seen before—Viktor Vance, a notorious syndicate enforcer from Chicago.
Adrian stood in front of the chair, slowly wiping a trace of blood off his knuckles with a white handkerchief. His eyes were entirely devoid of human emotion, shining like black glass in the dim overhead light.
"I’ll ask you once, Viktor," Adrian’s voice was dangerously quiet, almost a whisper. "Who hired you? And don't waste my time telling me it was a random hit, because no amateur gets past my perimeter without insider blueprints."
Viktor spat a glob of blood onto the concrete floor, laughing weakly through broken teeth. "You think... you think you own the West, Voss? You think because you crushed a couple of low-level shipping executives, you’re untouchable? The Syndicate has roots you can't even—"
Adrian didn't raise his voice. He didn't threaten him. He simply reached out, grabbed Viktor’s shattered index finger, and slowly began to bend it backward.
A blood-curdling scream echoed off the stone walls as Viktor thrashed violently against the restraints.
"Roots are easy to dig up when you know where to look," Adrian said smoothly, his voice as calm as if he were discussing the weather. "Now. Who is paying you?"
Viktor hyperventilated, tears streaming down his bruised face as the pain radiated up his arm. "It... it was Julian Vance! My uncle! He controls the Syndicate's western expansion! He wants the ports! He wants your entire holding firm!"
Adrian stopped, releasing Viktor’s finger. He pulled out a sleek black smartphone from his pocket, tapping the screen once.
"Did you catch that, Thomas?" Adrian spoke into the phone.
"Loud and clear, boss," the voice of his chief of security came through the speaker. "We’ve already traced Julian Vance’s private jet sitting on the tarmac at Billings Municipal Airport. His flight plan shows he’s trying to flee to Zurich in two hours."
Adrian slipped the phone back into his pocket, turning his back on the whimpering enforcer. He looked over his shoulder at Viktor with a cold, terrifying smile.
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"Tell your uncle I said hello," Adrian murmured.
He walked out of the basement, leaving Viktor in the dark, knowing full well that Julian Vance’s flight would never make it out of Montana airspace.
