Chapter 4 - The Invitation
The news hit the underworld like a tidal wave.
Silas Vane was found paralyzed and penniless.
The Valentine organization was in a state of pure panic.
Matthew had called an emergency meeting at his private estate.
A fortress on the outskirts of the city.
He had hired fifty extra mercenaries.
He had armored cars patrolling the perimeter.
He was scared.
That was exactly what I wanted.
A scared man makes mistakes.
A scared man gathers all his enemies in one room to feel safe.
I didn't sneak into the estate.
I drove straight to the front gate in a black sedan.
I rolled down the window and held up the Thorne ring.
The guards hesitated.
They had orders to kill anyone suspicious.
But the legend of the Thorne family was more powerful than their orders.
They opened the gate.
I walked into the main hall of the mansion.
Matthew was sitting at a long mahogany table, surrounded by his remaining Board members.
They all looked at me as I entered.
I wasn't wearing a mask.
I wasn't hiding.
"Elena," Matthew said, his voice trembling.
"You walked into a trap."
I looked around the room.
Snipers in the balcony.
Guards behind every door.
"I don't see a trap," I said.
"I see a funeral."
One of the Board members, a man named Henderson, slammed his fist on the table.
"You're one girl! We have an army!"
"You have men who are paid to be here," I corrected him.
"I have something they don't."
"I have the truth."
I pulled a small remote from my pocket.
I pressed the button.
The large monitors in the room flickered to life.
It wasn't footage of the mansion.
It was footage of their families.
Their wives at the spa. Their children at school.
"Every single one of your loved ones is being watched," I said.
"Not by me. But by the people you've stepped on to get where you are."
"I gave them the locations. I gave them the keys."
"If I don't check in every ten minutes, they finish what you started eighteen years ago."
The room went cold.
The mercenaries looked at each other.
They weren't paid enough to lose their families.
"Drop the guns," I commanded.
One by one, the weapons hit the floor.
Matthew looked around, his empire crumbling in seconds.
"You wouldn't," he whispered.
"I’m a Thorne, Matthew," I said.
May you like
"We don't make threats. We make promises."
***
