Chapter 9 - The Blackmail
Vincent stared at Mave, completely stunned by the sheer audacity of her plan.
His quiet, unassuming secretary was currently executing a digital heist of the most powerful criminal syndicate on the East Coast.
“If you move that money into an account in your name, you become a target for every mercenary in the world,” Vincent warned quietly.
Mave didn't look up from the screen.
“If I don't move it, my sister dies.”
She hit the enter key with a satisfying, final click.
A green progress bar flashed across the screen and hit one hundred percent.
“It’s done,” Mave announced, slamming the laptop shut.
“The treasury is officially mine.”
Vincent pulled out his burner phone and dialed Julian’s number.
Julian answered immediately.
“Are you outside the headquarters, Vincent?” Julian asked smoothly.
“I don't like to be kept waiting.”
“I’m not coming to the headquarters, Julian,” Vincent replied coldly.
“And you don't have the money.”
There was a long, heavy silence on the other end of the line.
“What are you talking about?” Julian demanded, his arrogant tone finally cracking.
“Check your offshore account,” Vincent suggested softly.
Mave could hear the frantic clicking of a keyboard over the phone.
“Where is it?!” Julian suddenly screamed, completely losing his composure.
“Where is my money, Vincent?!”
Mave leaned toward the speakerphone.
“It’s in my account, Julian,” Mave said, her voice terrifyingly steady.
“And if you don't call off the men outside my sister's dormitory right now, I will donate the entire syndicate treasury to the FBI.”
Julian let out a guttural roar of absolute rage.
“You stupid bitch!” Julian screamed.
“I will hunt you down and cut you to pieces!”
“You have five minutes,” Mave interrupted calmly.
“Call your men off, and have Sarah call me to confirm she is safe.”
“If she doesn't call me in five minutes, the money goes to the feds.”
She hung up the phone.
The apartment fell dead silent again.
Leo stared at Mave as if she were a mythological creature.
Vincent stood perfectly still, his eyes locked onto hers with a mixture of deep respect and intense, undeniable attraction.
“You realize he is going to trace the location of that phone call,” Vincent pointed out softly.
“He will have fifty heavily armed men at this apartment building in less than ten minutes.”
Mave swallowed hard, her brave facade finally beginning to crack.
“I know.”
Four agonising minutes passed.
Then, Mave’s personal cell phone began to ring.
It was an international number.
She answered it frantically.
“Mave?” Sarah’s voice echoed through the phone, sounding sleepy and confused.
“Why are you calling so late? Are you okay?”
Mave collapsed against the kitchen counter, tears of sheer relief flooding her eyes.
“I’m fine, Sarah.”
“I just wanted to hear your voice.”
She hung up the phone and looked at Vincent.
“She’s safe.”
“The hit squad is gone.”
Vincent nodded, drawing his weapon.
“Good.”
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“Now we have to fight our way out of Brooklyn.”
Before they could even move toward the door, a series of heavy, deafening explosions rocked the street outside the apartment building.
