Chapter 4 - Blood and Ledger
The silence in the small storage unit was thick enough to choke on. The fluorescent bulb overhead gave an electrical hum, flickering once before stabilizing.
“Don't listen to him,” Rowan said, her voice tight, the blood rushing in her ears. “I didn't know anything about this unit. I swear to God, Julian, I thought he was just a freelance designer—”
“Of course you did,” Tommy interrupted, coughing softly as he kept his hands visible. “She’s an auditor, Julian. Graduated top of her class at NYU, specialized in forensic asset recovery before her firm mysteriously downsized two years ago. You really think David—a guy who can't balance a checkbook without an app—managed to crack your offline filing system without an expert holding his hand?”
Vance’s eyes returned to Rowan, hardening into chips of dark obsidian. The air between them shifted instantly, the fragile alliance dissolving into suspicion.
“Rowan?” Vance asked, his voice dangerously low. “Is that true?”
“I worked in forensic accounting, yes,” Rowan said, her chest heaving as she stepped away from the crates, putting distance between both men. “I was laid off eighteen months ago. David knew that. But I swear to you, I didn't help him steal your ledger. I didn't even know you existed until four days ago!”
“People don't stumble into my orbit by accident, Rowan,” Vance said, taking a slow step forward, the muzzle of his gun still steady. “David moved into your building three years to the day after your former firm lost its contract with my holding company. That isn't a coincidence. That's a target acquisition.”
Tommy chuckled softly, blood pooling slightly at the corner of his mouth from an old bruise. “She’s the architect, boss. David was just the muscle that carried the bag out of the room.”
Rowan stared at Vance, seeing the exact moment the billionaire calculation took over his features. The warmth—if it had ever been real—was gone, replaced by the cold, tactical detachment of a man who trusted no one because survival demanded it.
“You brought me here,” Rowan whispered, the realization hitting her with sickening force. “You didn't bring me along because I had the luggage stub. You brought me here because you already suspected I was part of it.”
“I brought you here to see how you would react,” Vance corrected coldly. “And your reaction has been remarkably theatrical.”
Before Vance could pull the trigger or signal his driver outside, Tommy lunged.
It wasn't an attack on Vance; it was a desperate dive toward the light switch on the wall. Plunging the unit into total, suffocating darkness.
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A single gunshot shattered the tinny acoustics of the storage bay, followed by the sound of heavy boots scrambling across concrete, a shout of pain, and the screech of tires outside in the alleyway.
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