Chapter 26 - The Crest of the Seven Rings
The man who led the delegation through the doorway moved with the effortless grace of a lifelong predator. He was tall, silver-haired, with sharp, hawk-like eyes that took in every detail of the shattered room in less than a second—the bullet holes in the walls, the overturned furniture, the blood stains near the console, and finally, Adrian and me standing side-by-side in front of the master terminal.
"Adrian," the man said, his voice smooth, cultured, and dripping with an oily condescension. "I must say, your reception committee leaves something to be desired. Though, considering the rumors coming out of this harbor, I suppose we should be grateful you're still breathing."
"Vance," Adrian replied, his tone flat, devoid of any warmth or hospitality. "You traveled all the way from Geneva just to comment on my interior design? Or are you here to officially retire before you embarrass yourself?"
Vance didn't flinch at the thinly veiled threat. A thin, thin smile touched the corners of his lips as he stepped fully into the room, three armed guards fanning out behind him, their hands resting casually near the holsters beneath their coats.
"We are here, Sovereign, because the board is deeply concerned," Vance said, his gaze drifting lazily over to me. His eyes lingered on my face, noting the rigid posture, the dark circles under my eyes, and the Beretta held firmly at my side. "And who is this? The new pet? I thought the screeching blonde with the pedigree was supposed to be running domestic operations by now. What was her name? Victoria?"
The air in the room instantly dropped twenty degrees.
I saw the muscle in Adrian’s jaw jump—a lethal tell. Before Vance could blink, Adrian had closed the distance between them with terrifying speed, his hand shooting out to grab Vance by the expensive lapels of his wool coat, lifting him a full inch off the floor and slamming him hard against the nearest concrete pillar.
The three council guards instantly went for their weapons, but my Beretta was already leveled at the center of the lead guard’s chest before his hand could even clear leather.
"Move an inch," I said, my voice ice-cold, steady as a rock, "and I’ll turn your sternum into a sieve."
The guards froze, their eyes darting between my unwavering barrel and Adrian, who was pressing his forearm brutally against Vance’s throat.
"Let me make something crystal clear to you, Vance," Adrian whispered, his face inches from the older man’s terrified expression. "Victoria is locked in a hole where she can't even hear the rain. And if you ever speak my wife’s name with that filth in your mouth again, I won't just throw you out of this window—I’ll feed you to the eels in the shipping channel piece by piece. Do we understand each other?"
Vance’s hands clawed frantically at Adrian’s wrists, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple as he choked out a desperate, strangled sound of agreement.
"Good," Adrian hissed, releasing him with a shove that sent the council representative stumbling backward into his own guards.
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Vance coughed violently, gasping for air, clutching his bruised throat while glaring at Adrian with a mixture of absolute terror and simmering, murderous hatred.
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