Chapter 18 - Scorched Earth
Julian walked into the room, his boots tracking blood and slush onto the priceless Persian rug. Marcus stepped in behind him, sealing the heavy steel door and standing guard with his weapon raised.
"Stand up," Julian said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, like an executioner reading a final decree.
Gabriel chuckled softly, leaning back into his leather armchair and swirling the amber liquor in his glass. "Do you really think this ends here, Julian? You shoot me, and what? You go back to playing daddy? You go back to pretending that you're not a monster?"
Gabriel set the glass down with a sharp clink. His eyes darkened with pure, unadulterated hatred.
"You took everything from me!" Gabriel hissed, slamming his fist onto the desk. "Father gave you the conglomerate, the shipping lanes, the bank accounts, the political seats! He gave me the scraps! And when I tried to carve out my own territory in Asia, you sent your strike teams to burn my operations to the ground! You left me in that burning warehouse in Singapore to die like a stray dog!"
"You were trafficking children, Gabriel," Julian said, his eyes drilling into his brother’s soul. "You were selling girls younger than Maya to cartels in Macau. If I had known you survived that fire, I wouldn't have investigated—I would have come back with a can of gasoline to finish the job."
Gabriel sneered, entirely unrepentant. "And now you have a little girl of your own. Poetic justice, isn't it? Do you know how much joy it brought me to watch those video feeds? To see your bloodline begging in the dark? To see her weeping for a daddy who wasn't there?"
Before Gabriel could finish the sentence, Julian crossed the room like a thunderbolt.
Julian slammed his rifle butt into Gabriel’s face, shattering his nose and sending him crashing out of his chair onto the floor. Gabriel screamed in agony, clutching his ruined face as blood poured between his fingers.
Julian knelt over him, driving his knee into Gabriel’s sternum with enough force to crack bone, pinning him helpless against the floorboards. Julian drew his combat knife, pressing the razor-sharp tip against the soft tissue beneath Gabriel's jawline.
"She is an innocent child," Julian whispered, his breath hot against Gabriel's ear. "And you made her cry."
"Kill me!" Gabriel gasped, choking on his own blood, glaring up at Julian with manic, venomous defiance. "Go on! Do it! Pull the trigger! Plunge the knife! But you'll never save her, Julian! It was never about Svalbard! It was never about me!"
Julian’s eyes narrowed, his knife pressing deeper until a crimson bead welled on Gabriel's skin. "What did you do?"
Gabriel began to laugh—a wet, hysterical, dying laugh. "You think I brought my full force here? I was the bait, brother! The shiny lure to drag the mighty Julian Vance five thousand miles away from home! Did you really think Marcus was the only one who had access to your security grid?"
Julian’s heart skipped a beat. A cold, sickening realization ripped through his chest like an artillery shell.
He looked over his shoulder at Marcus.
Marcus was not looking at Gabriel. Marcus was standing near the door, his phone held to his ear, his face completely expressionless.
"Marcus..." Julian breathed, the world beginning to tilt violently on its axis.
Marcus slowly lowered the phone, his arctic-gray eyes meeting Julian's with chilling, professional detachment.
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"I'm sorry, Julian," Marcus said quietly, his voice devoid of any remorse. "Gabriel didn't have the money to buy me. But the Consortium did. They offered me your seat at the table. And all they asked for... was the girl."
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