Chapter 7 - THE WIDOW’S CHOICE
The monitors glowed with the agonizing truth. David, her husband—the man she had mourned, the man whose debts she had scrubbed hotel toilets to pay off—stood in the wreckage, casually smoking a cigarette beside the man who wanted Roman dead.
"He sold me," Maya whispered, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. "He left me to be eaten alive by the banks so he could live like a king."
"He sold us all out," Roman said, struggling to his feet. He opened a hidden compartment in the panic room wall, revealing an arsenal of weapons and thick stacks of cash. He grabbed a fresh magazine for his gun. "He was the one who told my father I took Elara. He's the accountant. He tracked my shadow funds."
Roman turned to Maya, his expression softening, a stark contrast to the violence surrounding them. He handed her a thick stack of banded hundred-dollar bills and a key fob.
"There's a maintenance tunnel under this floor. It leads to a garage two streets over. The fob is to a gray sedan," Roman instructed, his voice steady. "Take Elara. Drive to Canada. The money will buy you new identities. Go, Maya."
Maya looked at the money. It was more than she could make in ten lifetimes. It was freedom.
"What about you?" she asked.
"I'm going out the front door," Roman said, racking the slide of his gun. "I have to end this. My father won't stop hunting her as long as he breathes."
"You're injured. There are ten men out there. It's suicide."
"It's a distraction," Roman corrected softly. He looked down at Elara. "Be brave, Ellie. Maya is going to keep you safe."
He turned to leave.
Maya grabbed his arm. The cheap zirconia ring on her finger dug into his sleeve. She looked at the monitor. David was out there. The man who ruined her.
She took off the ring. She stared at it for a second, feeling the last three years of grief curdle into white-hot, righteous fury. She dropped the ring onto the steel floor.
"I know the hotel's banking codes," Maya said, her voice trembling but resolute. "When David ran, he left his old ledger in our apartment. I thought it was junk, but I memorized the master passwords to try and figure out his debts. If your father's money runs through the hotel's offshore accounts, I can drain it. Right now."
Roman stared at her, stunned. "If you drain his accounts, his men won't fight for him. They only have loyalty to the paycheck."
"Where's the terminal?" Maya asked.
May you like
Roman smiled—a sharp, dangerous smile. "Booting it up."
Outside, Victor Cassian’s voice boomed through a megaphone. "Roman! Send out the girl, and I'll make your death quick! You have sixty seconds before we burn this house to the ground!"
