Chapter 8 - Glass And Blood
The elevator doors slid open silently on the seventy-fifth floor, revealing the sprawling, glass-walled executive suite bathed in the pale, cold light of early morning. The city stretched out below us in a vast panorama of steel and fog, completely unaware of the quiet war playing out inside the tower. We stepped onto the polished marble floor, our footsteps echoing softly in the cavernous room as we approached the main mahogany desk.
Marcus stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his tailored gray suit immaculate, holding a glass of amber whiskey in one hand. He turned slowly as we approached, his expression freezing instantly when he saw us standing there, alive and entirely dry. The glass slipped from his fingers, shattering against the marble with a sharp, explosive crash that echoed through the quiet office.
"You should have stayed at the pier," Marcus said, his voice dropping all pretense of corporate professionalism as his hand darted beneath his jacket, pulling a sleek black semi-automatic pistol from a concealed holster. "The fire was supposed to settle all of this."
"It settled a lot of things, Marcus," Adrian said smoothly, stepping casually in front of me while his hand flicked back toward his own waist with terrifying speed. "Including the fact that you've been skimming from the shipping lanes and framing your own associates to cover your tracks."
"The old man was blind," Marcus snarled, his hand shaking slightly as he aimed the barrel directly at Adrian's chest. "He was running the Mori family into the ground with his hesitation. I built those offshore accounts to keep the syndicate solvent while he grew soft."
"You built them to buy your own exit strategy," I said, stepping out from behind Adrian's shoulder so Marcus could see the black leather ledgers clutched in my hands. "And you killed my father when he found the first transfer."
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Marcus's eyes widened in panic, his finger tightening against the trigger. He raised the barrel toward me, but before he could pull it, Adrian moved with blinding speed. A heavy silver desk paperweight flew across the room, striking Marcus hard across the wrist and knocking the gun wide. A deafening shot shattered the glass paneling behind us as Adrian closed the distance, slamming Marcus hard against the reinforced floor-to-ceiling window.
The glass groaned under the impact, spiderwebbing outward across the expansive city view as Adrian pinned the traitor by the throat, his face inches from Marcus's terrified eyes.
