Chapter 35 - The Serpent in the Snow
The cold wind of Fifth Avenue bit through Viktor’s tactical jacket as he stood at gunpoint facing Julian Vance inside the ruined nave of St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
Surrounding them, Blackwood mercenaries held their positions, their assault rifles trained on Viktor and the remaining Serrano loyalists.
Julian stepped forward, his silver-headed cane tapping rhythmically against the blood-stained marble floor. His pale eyes scanned the cavernous interior, lingering briefly on the blown-out floor mosaic and the dark, yawning abyss of the vault hatch below.
"You're fighting a losing war, Commander," Julian said smoothly, stopping a few feet away from Viktor. He didn't even glance at the muzzle of Viktor’s submachine gun pointed directly at his heart. "Dante is a relic of an old world. He thinks blood and honor still mean something in the modern syndicates. But the world has changed. Everything is data now. Everything is algorithms and offshore accounts."
"Dante is smarter than you'll ever be, Julian," Viktor spat, his finger twitching slightly on the trigger. "And he's going to walk out of that vault and put a bullet between your eyes just like he did in Venice."
Julian chuckled softly, a dry, humorless sound. "Venice? My dear Viktor... that wasn't me in Venice. That was a decoy. A pathetic, plastic-surgery-enhanced shadow of a man who served his purpose the moment Dante pulled the trigger."
Viktor’s jaw tightened. "You're a coward hiding behind ghosts."
"No," Julian replied, his voice suddenly hardening, losing its playful edge and revealing the cold, sociopathic calculator beneath the polished billionaire exterior. "I am the future. And as for Dante and his little golden-haired tramp... let's see how much they enjoy the dark."
Julian raised his left hand and snapped his fingers.
From behind the altar, two Blackwood mercenaries emerged, dragging a bound and gagged figure between them. It was Marco. The former Serrano heir was bruised, bleeding, and sobbing hysterically, a tactical charge strapped securely to his chest with a timer ticking down in glowing red digital numbers.
"No, please! Don't! I gave you the codes!" Marco screamed through his gag as the mercenaries shoved him onto the cold marble floor at Julian’s feet.
Julian looked down at him with utter, casual contempt. "You gave me the codes, Marco, yes. And for that, I am truly grateful. But a loose end is a loose end. And in our line of work, dead men tell the best shareholder reports."
Julian tapped his cane twice on the floor. "Ten seconds, gentlemen. Let's clear the room."
The mercenaries turned instantly, falling back toward the shattered front doors with practiced efficiency. Julian turned as well, walking calmly toward the exit without a backward glance.
"Viktor!" one of the Serrano loyalists yelled, panicking as he looked at the ticking timer on Marco’s chest. *00:08... 00:07...*
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"Fall back! Get out of the nave!" Viktor roared, grabbing the loyalist by the collar and sprinting toward the side vestry doors just as the world turned into blinding white fire.
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