Chapter 5 - The Council of Shadows
Adrien walked out of the guest suite, closing the heavy oak door with a silent click.
He didn't wake Grace. He didn't sound the general estate alarm—not yet. An alarm told the rat the trap was closing; a quiet house made the rat bold enough to step right into the middle of it.
He pulled out a secure, military-grade satellite phone from his inner coat pocket and dialed a three-digit extension.
“Dante,” Adrien said the instant the line connected.
“Boss? I thought you were resting. We’re holding the perimeter quiet—”
“Listen to me very carefully, Dante,” Adrien interrupted, his voice dropping into that dark, arctic register that made his closest lieutenants check their sidearms. “Vance is compromised. Moretti’s men are inside the south service sector.”
A sharp intake of breath hissed through the earpiece. “Vance? Are you certain, Boss? He’s been with us since—”
“I have physical evidence signed by a three-year-old artist and corroborated by security blind spots,” Adrien cut him off, pacing the dimly lit corridor of the east wing like a caged panther. “Vance gave them the override codes for the exterior cameras at 02:00 hours two nights ago. They’re positioning themselves for a clean strike on the main study before dawn.”
“What are your orders?” Dante’s voice instantly hardened, stripping away all shock and replacing it with lethal, unquestioning obedience.
“Do not engage them yet,” Adrien instructed coldly. “Let them move past the outer gardens. Let them think they’re invisible. Lock down the reinforced steel shutters on the east wing where Grace and the child are sleeping. Then, I want you and Marcus at the base of the grand staircase with silenced pieces. I’ll be waiting in my study.”
“And Vance?”
“Leave Vance to me,” Adrien said softly. “I want to ask him why he traded twelve years of loyalty for a crayon drawing.”
Adrien slipped the phone back into his pocket. He reached beneath his left arm, his fingers closing comfortably around the checkered grip of his custom Sig Sauer P226. The steel was cold against his palm, grounding him in the brutal, beautiful reality of the world he commanded.
He walked down the long, carpeted hall toward the grand staircase, every footfall silent against the floor.
May you like
The trap was set.
Now, it was time to see who came to dinner.
