Chapter 5 - The Price of Blood
Click.
The hammer of Rostov’s revolver fell on an empty chamber.
Rostov’s eyes widened in sudden, absolute disbelief. He pulled the trigger again. Click.
"Looking for this?" a calm, icy voice spoke from the shadows behind Rostov.
Marcus stepped out from behind a concrete pillar, holding the loaded magazine he had quietly lifted from Rostov’s secondary holster during their silent approach down the stairwell.
Rostov spun around, his face twisting into a mask of pure rage, but before he could raise the weapon, Julian closed the distance between them with terrifying speed.
With a brutal, sweeping kick, Julian sent the silver revolver flying out of Rostov’s hand, sending it clattering across the concrete floor. Before the old kingpin could recover, Julian grabbed him by the lapels of his tailored suit, hoisted him off his feet, and slammed him against the reinforced brick wall with enough force to crack the mortar.
"You talk about my family," Julian growled, his face inches from Rostov’s, his dark eyes burning with the suppressed fury of four lost years, "while you hid in the dirt like a rat."
Rostov coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but a twisted grin remained on his lips. "You can kill me, Julian... but you'll never find the antidote in time. Cassandra is dead by now. And the federal indictments... they're already en route to the Attorney General's office. Vanguard owns the city now."
"Vanguard is finished," Marcus chimed in, holding up his tablet, which was now flashing a series of bright green override codes. "I just uploaded the financial records from Thomas’s burner drive into the federal cybercrime database. Every shell company, every bribe account, every offshore laundering node Rostov owns has been exposed. The feds are already raiding their downtown headquarters."
Rostov’s face drained of color. The empire he had spent decades rebuilding was crumbling in a matter of seconds.
Julian looked down at the broken man in his grip. Slowly, deliberately, he loosened his hold and let Rostov slide down the brick wall until he hit the floor, gasping for breath.
"I'm not going to kill you, Viktor," Julian said quietly, wiping a speck of dust from his sleeve. "Death is too easy for a man like you. You're going to spend the rest of your natural life in a federal supermax cell, watching the world you tried to steal pass you by through a four-inch glass window."
He turned to Marcus. "Hand him over to the federal marshals waiting upstairs. And make sure Pendelton gets immediate medical attention."
"Understood, Boss," Marcus replied, nodding to two tactical officers who stepped out from the stairwell to secure Rostov.
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As Julian turned and walked back toward the iron-mesh door, the weight of the night seemed to press down on him heavier than ever. Rostov was defeated, the conspiracy was exposed, but one terrifying uncertainty remained.
Cassandra.
