Chapter 8 - The Price of Treason
Alistair Vance was a predator, and predators don't surrender easily. He looked at his board members, seeing the fear in their eyes. He knew the data Megan possessed was real; she was the analyst who had brought down the New York Commission, after all.
"You're bluffing," Vance whispered, though his hand trembled slightly against the table. "You wouldn't risk your daughter’s safety. We know about the child, Megan. We know she’s in Toronto right now."
Dominic’s expression didn't change, but an aura of absolute death settled over him. He walked around the table, the heavy thud of his dress shoes echoing in the silent room. He stopped directly behind Vance, placing a hand on the back of the CEO’s chair.
"You made a mistake mentioning my daughter," Dominic said softly, bending down so his breath brushed Vance’s ear. "You think I came here to negotiate. I didn't. Megan came to negotiate. I came to show you what happens when you threaten my blood."
Dominic grabbed Vance’s right hand, slamming it onto the table and pinning it down with his massive palm. Before the other board members could scream, Dominic took a tactical pen from his breast pocket and drove it cleanly through Vance’s hand, pinning it to the mahogany wood. Vance let out a choked, agonized scream, his face turning pale.
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"The next one goes through your eye, Alistair," Dominic whispered, his gray eyes burning with an ancient, terrifying fire. "The ledger with Vanguard Helix is closed today. You will sign the release forms for the trust land in Michigan, you will lift the bounty, and you will delete every file you have on my family. If I see a single shadow in my orchard again, I won't come to your office. I will come to your home while you sleep."
The remaining board members scrambled to comply, their arrogance entirely shattered by the display of raw, unyielding violence. They realized they weren't dealing with criminals; they were dealing with a family that had survived hell and had nothing left to lose.
