Chapter 14
CHAPTER XIV: THE ENEMY OF MY ENEMY
"I see you received my postcard, Jonathan..."
The smooth, gravelly tone hung in the air of the quiet study like poison. Jonathan didn't rush to answer. He reached down, turned the speakerphone onto maximum clarity, and let the silence stretch for five agonizing seconds.
"You brought a gun to a playground, Samuel," Jonathan said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying register. "That was your last mistake."
A faint, dry chuckle rasped through the speaker. "Always the protector. But look closer at the board, Jonathan. If I wanted you dead, that envelope wouldn't have contained a photograph. It would have contained a detonator."
Emily stepped closer to the desk, her weapon held low, her eyes fixed on the pulsing red signal light on the transponder. "What do you want, Samuel?" she demanded coldly. "The Mercer drives are scrubbed. The Vance empire is dust. You got your freedom."
"Freedom is a temporary condition in our line of work, Emily," Samuel replied, the arrogant smirk disappearing from his voice, replaced by something far more sinister—genuine tension. "Three days ago, the Syndicate restructured. They decided that anyone who held the master keys to the black-market ledgers was an unacceptable liability. That includes me. And that includes you two."
Jonathan’s brows furrowed. He exchanged a quick, calculating glance with Emily.
"They put a price on your head," Jonathan stated flatly.
"A forty-million-dollar bounty," Samuel corrected grimly. "Which means half the mercenaries in Western Europe are currently sweeping the Mediterranean coastline looking for all three of us. The photo I sent wasn't a threat from me, Jonathan. It was a warning. My scouts intercepted a Syndicate strike team twenty miles north of your village an hour ago."
"Why call us?" Emily asked, her voice skeptical, unyielding. "You betrayed us on the docks. You tried to sell our bloodline to the highest bidder."
"Because you two are the only people alive vicious enough to survive what's coming," Samuel spat, his breath heavy over the static. "And because Emily holds the obsidian drive. Without those biometric keys, we can't freeze the Syndicate's war chest before they launch an orbital sweep on this entire province."
Jonathan leaned over the desk, his knuckles white against the dark oak.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't trace this call, find your rat's nest, and put a bullet through your head right now."
"Because right now, three armored SUVs just passed through the toll booth at the entrance of your village," Samuel said softly. "You have six minutes before they breach your front gate. We team up tonight, or your son doesn't see tomorrow."
The line went dead with a sharp, hollow click.
Outside the villa's open windows, the peaceful chirp of the evening cicadas suddenly went completely silent. In the distance, down the winding cliffside road, the faint, low rumble of heavy V8 engines echoed through the valley.
Jonathan picked up his weapon, racked the slide, and looked at Emily.
May you like
Emily grabbed her holster, checked the baby monitor app on her encrypted phone—showing their son fast asleep in a reinforced, subterranean safe room beneath the wine cellar—and met Jonathan's gaze with absolute, cold resolve.
"Six minutes," Emily whispered, a lethal smile touching her lips. "Let's give them a Mediterranean welcome."
