Chapter 9 - The Voice in the Dark
The small screen of the satellite phone illuminated the dark cabin kitchen with an eerie, cold blue light.
Claire stared in horror at the face appearing on the display. It wasn't Nathaniel. It was a scarred, middle-aged man with sharp, predatory eyes and a thin, cruel smirk playing across his lips. He was sitting in what looked like the command center of Graves Tower, surrounded by flickering monitors and armed guards in tactical gear.
"Well, well, well," the man rasped, his voice dripping with venomous amusement. "If it isn't the ghost who refused to stay buried. Hello, Claire."
Claire’s blood ran cold. She stepped back instinctively, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a gasp. "Victor... Victor Thorne."
"The one and only," the man chuckled softly, leaning closer to the camera lens. "You know, for ten years, our mutual friend Nathaniel tore the underworld apart looking for you. He spent billions building an empire just to buy your safety. And yet, all it took was a lost wallet and a little girl wandering into the wrong lobby to bring the whole house of cards crashing down."
"Where is Nathaniel?" Claire demanded, her voice rising in a sharp, desperate pitch that made Ruby look up anxiously from the living room sofa. "What have you done to him?"
Victor’s smirk faded, replaced by a cold, calculating glare. "Nathaniel is currently busy dying, Claire. By the time your little transit pod cleared the city limits, our enforcers had secured the penthouse. He fought like a cornered animal, I’ll give him that—took down half a dozen of my best men bare-handed. But even the King of Aldridge bleeds when you put enough steel into him."
Claire felt the room spin around her. Her knees buckled slightly, and she caught the edge of the dining table to keep from collapsing. "No... no, you're lying..."
"I never lie about business, Claire," Victor replied smoothly. "And right now, you are the last loose end in a very expensive corporate restructuring. Here is my proposal: the Blue Ridge bunker has a secondary satellite transponder. Turn on your GPS tracking, transmit your exact coordinates to my strike team currently inbound on your sector, and I might—*might*—let the little girl live."
Across the room, Ruby sensed the panic in the air. She stood up from the sofa and walked toward the kitchen, tugging on Claire’s sleeve. "Mom? Who is that on the phone? Is that Daddy?"
Claire looked down at her daughter, her heart shattering into a million jagged pieces. The illusion of safety had vanished. The monsters had found them.
"Never," Claire whispered into the phone, her voice dropping into a deadly, ice-cold register that shocked even Victor Thorne. "If you touch my daughter, Victor, I swear to God I will burn every single secret the Syndicate owns until there is nothing left of your empire to rule."
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Victor laughed—a harsh, barking sound of pure mockery. "Brave words from a woman trapped in a wooden box in the middle of nowhere. Enjoy your last night in the mountains, Claire. We'll be there by sunrise."
The screen went black.
