Chương 16 - The London Summons
Twenty-four hours later, the private airstrip outside Basel was enveloped in a relentless sleet storm.
Inside the heated cabin of an unmarked Gulfstream G650, the atmosphere was thick with tactical maps, encrypted satellite laptops, and loaded weaponry.
Leo was fast asleep in the rear master stateroom, guarded by Marco and two newly summoned loyalists who had undergone polygraph tests and biometric checks before being allowed within ten yards of the child.
In the forward cabin, Saraphina sat at the conference table, an array of blueprints spread before her. She had showered and changed into tailored black slacks and a charcoal cashmere sweater. Her hair was tied back in a severe, elegant knot, accentuating the razor-sharp lines of her cheekbones. The scar near her ear was visible, but she no longer bothered to hide it. It was a badge of survival.
Elias sat across from her, a crystal tumbler of Scotch sitting untouched at his elbow. He had a secure laptop connected to an encrypted channel that displayed an active London IP address.
The screen pinged.
A live audio feed connected. There was no video, only the rhythmic sound of a grandfather clock ticking on the other end of the line.
"You took your time cleaning up Zurich, Elias," a voice spoke through the speakers.
The voice was aged, cultured, and raspy, carrying the distinctive cadence of old British aristocracy layered over an unyielding predatory edge.
Elias leaned toward the mic, his eyes dark with murderous intent. "Julian."
A low, dry laugh answered. "I see Ward managed to deliver my message before his little cyanide trick. I always told him he was too theatrical."
"I will skin you alive," Elias said without raising his voice.
"You can certainly try, dear boy," Julian Vance replied smoothly. "You were always my finest pupil. But you're flying blind. You think you understand the war you've inherited, but you don't even know who holds the mortgage on your life."
"Why the Morettis?" Saraphina interrupted, leaning over the table, her tone icy. "Why did you murder my father and orchestrate my brother's downfall?"
A pause lingered on the line. The ticking of the clock seemed to grow louder.
"Ah, the little girl with the mark of Kingston on her flesh," Julian mused. "You don't know the truth, do you, Saraphina? Your father didn't die because of debt. Your father was the one who funded the creation of the Kingston Syndicate. He and Elias's father were partners. Brothers in all but blood."
Elias’s eyes snapped toward Saraphina. She froze, her breath catching in her throat.
"You're lying," Saraphina spat.
"Check the vault beneath the St. Jude's Banking House in Mayfair," Julian said casually. "Vault 404. It opens with two biometric signatures: a male heir of Kingston, and a female heir of Moretti. The founders built a dead-man's fail-safe. If you want the truth—and the accounts holding twenty-two billion in bearer bonds—you have to walk into my house to get it."
"It's an ambush," Elias stated flatly.
"Of course it is, Elias," Julian mocked gently. "A grand gala is taking place tomorrow evening at the Royal Lancaster Ballroom. The entire Council will be there to celebrate the restructuring of your territories. If you don't show up to claim your seat, they vote to liquidate everything. Including every sanctuary you have left."
The line abruptly clicked dead.
Saraphina looked at Elias. The silence in the cabin was suffocating.
"He wants us both in London," she whispered. "Together."
"He thinks we're predictable," Elias murmured, his eyes locking onto hers with a dark, blazing hunger. "He thinks because we have Leo, we'll hesitate."
"Are we going to hesitate, Boss?" she challenged, a reckless spark dancing in her hazel eyes.
May you like
Elias reached across the table, his large hand covering hers, his thumb tracing the delicate bones of her wrist. "We're going to burn London to the ground."
***
