Chapter 4 - The Boardroom of Blood
The high-rise building of Aegis Maritime Holdings towered over the financial district of Harbor City, a monument to corporate greed and hidden sins. On the forty-second floor, the board of directors sat in a plush, soundproofed room, sipping single-malt scotch and discussing quarterly projections.
But they weren't discussing shipping routes. They were discussing the sudden, violent disruption of their human trafficking pipeline.
At the head of the table sat Arthur Vance, Viktor’s older brother and the regional director of the Vanguard Syndicate. He was a man of refined tastes and absolute ruthlessness.
"Viktor is dead," Arthur said, his voice calm but dripping with venom. "Our operation in Harbor City is compromised. The police chief is panicking, threatening to talk to the feds if we don't pull him out."
"And Aiden Vale?" one of the board members asked, his voice trembling. "He wiped out an entire tactical squad in the Sinks. He's a psychopath."
"Vale is an annoyance," Arthur dismissed. "He operates in the shadows. He lacks the scale to oppose us. We have resources he cannot fathom. Tomorrow, we bring in a strike team from Montreal. We will burn his docks, seize his warehouses, and put his head on a spike in Westlake Park."
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the boardroom clicked.
The lock turned.
The board members froze. The security guards at the door reached for their sidearms, but before they could draw, the doors burst inward.
A flashbang grenade bounced across the expensive Persian rug.
BANG.
A blinding white light and a deafening roar filled the room. The board members screamed, clutching their eyes and ears.
Through the smoke, Aiden Vale walked in. He wasn't wearing a suit this time. He was clad in black tactical gear, a bulletproof vest, and a mask that covered the lower half of his face, leaving only his icy eyes visible.
Beside him, Mac and Liam moved with military efficiency, disarming the guards and forcing the board members to their knees.
Within thirty seconds, the entire room was secured. The powerful men of Harbor City’s elite were weeping on the floor, their expensive suits stained with spilled scotch.
Aiden walked to the head of the table and stood behind Arthur Vance. He pulled down his mask, revealing his calm, terrifying face.
"Arthur," Aiden said conversationalist, taking a seat at the table. "You have a beautiful office. Great view of the bay."
Arthur, despite having a gun pointed at his chest, managed a sneer. "Vale. You're a dead man walking. Do you have any idea who you are dealing with? The Vanguard is global. We have politicians, judges, and generals on our payroll. You're a local thug with a fancy suit."
Aiden didn't argue. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a laptop, sliding it across the glass table.
On the screen was a live feed of a massive container ship sitting in the middle of the harbor.
"That's the Vanguard Sentinel," Aiden said. "Your flagship cargo vessel. It’s carrying three hundred tons of illegal contraband, including forty-five undocumented refugees trapped in the lower decks."
Arthur's eyes widened slightly. "How did you get that feed?"
"I own the harbor, Arthur," Aiden said softly. "I told you. You're just renting it."
Aiden tapped a key on his phone.
On the laptop screen, a massive explosion erupted from the bow of the Vanguard Sentinel. The ship began to tilt violently, water rushing into the cargo hold.
"What did you do?!" Arthur screamed, lunging forward, but Mac slammed him back into his chair.
"My men are already rescuing the people in the lower decks," Aiden said, his voice dropping to a whisper that chilled the room. "But your cargo? Your millions of dollars in black-market assets? They're going to the bottom of the bay."
"You're insane!" Arthur gasped. "You just started a war you cannot win!"
"I didn't start a war, Arthur," Aiden said, rising from his seat and leaning over the desk until he was inches from Arthur's face. "I'm ending one. I want the names of every buyer, every distributor, and every corrupt official associated with your syndicate in this state. Now."
Arthur laughed hoarsely. "I’ll never give you those names. The Vanguard would kill my entire family if I talked."
Aiden reached out, grabbed Arthur’s tie, and pulled him forward, his voice a low, terrifying hiss.
"The Vanguard is far away, Arthur. I am right here."
Aiden slid a sheet of paper and a pen across the table.
"Write," Aiden commanded. "Or I start tossing your board members out of that beautiful forty-second-floor window one by one."
He looked at the nearest board member, a prominent city councilman. "Starting with him."
The councilman began to sob, wetting himself. "Arthur, please! Give him the names! Please!"
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Arthur stared into Aiden’s eyes, searching for a hint of bluffing, a shred of mercy. He found nothing. Only an endless, freezing void.
Slowly, his hand shaking, Arthur reached for the pen.
