Chapter 4 - GHOSTS OF THE UNDERWORLD
The 15th floor belonged to a high-end tech firm, completely deserted at this hour. Rows of sleek monitors reflected the moonlight bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Vincent and Elena ducked behind a long, curved reception desk just as the stairwell door burst open again.
"Fan out! They came this way!" a harsh voice barked.
Vincent checked his magazine. Four rounds left. He carried a spare in his sock, but seven bullets against a heavily armed squad was a death sentence in an open firefight. He needed to change the rules of the engagement.
"Elena," Vincent whispered, his lips barely moving. "I need you to be brave. Can you do that?"
Elena clutched the micro-SD card in her pocket. She thought of the nights spent crying on the bathroom floor, the cruel sneer on Marcus's face, the feeling of utter helplessness. A cold, hard fury began to replace her fear. She looked at her father and nodded, her eyes hardening. "Tell me what to do."
"Crawl along the edge of the cubicles to the server room at the end of the hall. Lock yourself in. When you hear the shooting stop, do not come out unless you hear me knock three times. If anyone else tries to open that door..." He handed her a sleek, matte-black combat knife from his belt. "You aim for the throat."
Elena took the blade. It felt terrifyingly heavy, but she gripped it tight. Without another word, she slipped away into the shadows, moving with a silent, desperate speed.
Vincent watched her go, a grim smile touching his lips. Then, he stood up.
He didn't hide. He walked casually out into the center aisle of the office, his presence so commanding it seemed to suck the ambient light from the room.
"Gentlemen," Vincent's gravelly voice echoed through the silent office.
Three heavily armed cleaners spun around, their laser sights sweeping across the room until they painted Vincent’s chest with three bright red dots.
"Stand down, boss," the lead man said. Vincent recognized the voice. It was Russo, a kid he had pulled from the gutters of the South Side ten years ago. "It's over. Marcus has the network. He has the bank accounts. We don't want to kill you, but we will."
"You think Marcus bought my empire?" Vincent asked, slowly walking toward them, completely ignoring the guns pointed at him. "He bought a ghost. You forgot rule number one, Russo. The money isn't in the network. The money is the man who built it."
Before Russo could process the words, Vincent kicked a rolling office chair violently into the man's knees. As Russo stumbled, Vincent fired twice, dropping the men on the left and right with chilling precision. Russo recovered, swinging his rifle up, but Vincent was already inside his guard. Vincent clamped his hand over the rifle's barrel, pushing it upward as it fired harmlessly into the ceiling, and delivered a brutal, shattering headbutt to Russo's nose.
The man crumpled, unconscious before he hit the carpet.
Vincent stood in the sudden silence, his breath completely even. He ejected the empty magazine, slid his final spare from his ankle into the grip, and racked the slide. He walked to the server room and knocked three times.
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The door unlocked, and Elena stepped out, pale but unharmed. She looked at the bodies, then at her father.
"We need to get to the subway tunnels," Vincent said, wiping a spot of blood from his lapel. "I have a safehouse in Little Italy. Tonight, Marcus learns why they call me the Reaper."
