Chapter 8 - The Ultimate Sacrifice
"I have the ledger, Alistair," Jackson said, his voice echoing clearly through the cavernous gym. He reached into his tactical vest, pulling out a sleek, reinforced silver hard drive. "Let Marcus go. This is what you came for."
"Ah, the keys to the kingdom," Vance smiled, his eyes glinting with greed. "Toss it onto the floor, Jackson. Slowly."
Jackson lowered his arm, ready to slide the drive across the concrete.
But Marcus shook his head violently, spitting blood onto the floor. "Don't do it, Jackson! The drives are connected to a remote deletion protocol! If he connects it to his network, it will erase everything—including the foundation’s funding lines! He’s trying to bankrupt us!"
Vance’s face contorted with sudden, manic rage. "Shut up, Marcus!"
Vance raised his submachine gun, aiming directly at Marcus’s chest.
"Alistair, look at me!" Jackson roared, his voice carrying an immense, commanding weight that forced Vance’s eyes back to him. "You want me. You’ve always wanted me. Leave them out of this. Let’s finish this like we used to."
Jackson unbuckled his tactical holster, letting his pistol clatter to the concrete floor. He raised his hands, stepping away from the weapon.
"One-on-one," Jackson challenged, his gray-blue eyes turning to cold steel. "No weapons. No detonators. Just you and the man who took your crown."
Vance stared at him, his ego flared by the challenge. He had spent five years in prison nursing his hatred for Jackson Ford. He didn't just want to destroy Jackson’s legacy; he wanted to physically break the man who had defeated him.
Vance tossed his submachine gun onto the catwalk, pulling a long, gleaming combat knife from his belt.
"I’ve waited five years for this, Jackson," Vance growled, climbing down the steel ladder to the gymnasium floor.
The two men circled each other in the dim, dusty room, the storm outside howling against the reinforced glass windows.
Vance lunged forward with terrifying speed, the knife slicing through the air in a blur of silver. Jackson dodged the strike, but the blade caught the sleeve of his jacket, tearing the fabric.
Jackson countered with a powerful, driving punch to Vance’s ribs, the impact sounding like a crack of thunder. Vance gasped, stumbling back, but he quickly recovered, slashing the knife downward.
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The blade cut deep into Jackson’s forearm, blood instantly soaking his shirt.
Jackson didn't flinch. He grabbed Vance’s wrist, twisting it violently until the knife clattered to the floor, then threw his massive shoulder into Vance’s chest, sending him crashing into the heavy metal scaffolding at the side of the room.
