Chapter 9 - The Siege of Jane Street
"You're walking into a firing squad," Naomi whispered, her fingers tightening around my wrist with a desperate, crushing grip. The sound of the hydraulic ram slamming against the exterior iron door shook the entire foundation of the brownstone, sending a fine dust raining down from the concrete ceiling.
"I'm not walking into a firing squad," I said, looking down into her eyes, letting her see the cold, absolute resolve that had kept me alive in boardrooms and alleyways for a decade. "I'm clearing the board. Julie, status on the upload?"
"Ninety percent," Julie called out from across the kitchen island, her fingers flying across the illuminated keyboard with frantic speed. "The packets are routed through twelve different proxy servers in Zurich and Reykjavik. Once it hits the wire, not even your father's high-priced cyber-defense team can pull it back. It will broadcast directly to every major news desk, the SEC, and the Department of Justice."
"Good," I said, gently untangling Naomi's fingers from my wrist. "When the timer hits zero, take Lily through the basement service tunnel. There's a drainage conduit that empties out onto the Hudson riverfront three blocks down. A secure car is waiting at the pier."
Naomi shook her head fiercely, her dark hair swirling around her shoulders. "I'm not running from your family anymore, Adrian. Not after I finally understand what they did."
"You're not running, you're surviving," I replied, my voice sharpening. "If you stay here, my father wins. If you get that data out, his empire crumbles before sunrise."
Before Naomi could argue further, the heavy iron door gave way with a deafening screech of snapping steel and splintered concrete. The security bar buckled, and the reinforced frame swung inward.
The hallway flooded with shadows and tactical gear.
I didn't wait. I raised the Sig and fired two warning rounds into the reinforced drywall above the entryway, sending plaster showering down over the lead tactical officer's helmet.
"Stand down, Moretti!" Vincent's voice barked from the hallway, calm and commanding as he stepped into the foyer behind three armed operatives with shields raised. "You're outgunned, outmaneuvered, and your father is already en route with a clean-up crew that won't leave a single forensic trace."
"Tell Marcus Senior he's welcome to come say it to my face," I called back, keeping my stance low, positioning myself directly between the hallway and the kitchen doorway where Naomi and Lily stood.
"Upload complete," Julie shouted from the kitchen, her voice ringing out like a gunshot in the tense silence.
On the laptop screen, the progress bar hit one hundred percent.
May you like
Vincent saw the screen reflected in the glass partition. His cold, indifferent expression vanished for a split second, replacing itself with a flash of genuine panic.
"Take him down!" Vincent roared, drawing his own pistol. "Non-lethal on the boy, drop the rest!"
