CHAPTER 16 — Collateral Damage
Vance's initial shock quickly morphed back into the arrogant smirk of a man who believed money made him invincible. "Impressive resume," he chuckled nervously, taking a sip of his scotch. "But this isn't a warzone, Sarah. This is civil law. Your idiot brother-in-law signed the papers. The house is mine. You breaking in here is a felony. I could have you arrested."
"You could," I agreed, leaning forward, planting both hands flat on his desk. "But that would require explaining to the police why you're keeping a shadow ledger of extortion, illegal interest rates, and fraudulent notary stamps in the safe behind you."
Vance’s smirk vanished entirely. He glanced nervously at the large metal safe hidden behind a framed painting on the wall. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Elias," I said clearly into my comms. "Hit the servers."
"Copy," Elias's voice crackled. Miles away in the van, Elias initiated a brute-force cyber breach on Vance's local network, bypassing the rudimentary firewalls his cheap IT guys had installed. The computer monitor on Vance's desk suddenly flickered, turned black, and began scrolling massive lines of green code as Elias downloaded every digital file on the local drive.
"Hey!" Vance shouted, lunging for the keyboard. I slapped his hand away with a lightning-fast strike, causing him to yelp in pain.
"Sit down," I ordered. He collapsed back into his chair, rubbing his wrist, genuine fear finally taking root in his eyes. "You think you're untouchable because you prey on weak people," I told him, my voice dripping with cold disdain. "Greg is a coward. He ran because he couldn't face the consequences of his actions. But I am not Greg. I don't run. And I don't negotiate with bullies."
I pulled a small, high-tech breaching charge from my vest—a localized thermite compound designed to melt locks silently. I walked over to the painting, ripped it off the wall, and slapped the charge over the safe's electronic lock. "Open it," I commanded. "Or I burn through it."
Vance was sweating now. "If you take those ledgers... my whole operation falls apart. The local mob bosses I answer to will kill me."
"That sounds like a personal problem," I replied. "Open it. Now." Defeated, Vance stood up on shaky legs, punched in a six-digit code, and swung the heavy door open. Inside were stacks of cash, but I ignored them entirely. I reached in and pulled out three thick, black leather-bound ledgers. The physical proof of every illegal foreclosure and extortion racket he had run for the last decade.
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"I'm taking these," I said, shoving the ledgers into a canvas bag slung over my shoulder. "And the debt against my mother's house is officially forgiven. If you ever contact my family again, if your men ever go near my children's school again, I will personally hand you over to the people you owe money to. Do we have an understanding?"
Vance nodded, pale and trembling. But as I turned to leave, the warehouse alarms suddenly shrieked to life. Red lights bathed the office in a violent, pulsing glow. "Ghost One," Miller's voice yelled urgently over the comms. "We have a problem. The local police just rolled up. An anonymous tip reported a break-in. We have to abort!"
