Chapter 6 - The Brother's Betrayal
Julian stood tall beneath the flickering halogen bulb, his lips curved into a cold, triumphant smile.
"Hello, brother," Julian said, his voice echoing smoothly across the concrete pillars.
"I wondered how long it would take you to follow the breadcrumbs down here."
Adrian did not lower Ethan.
He shifted our son's weight slightly, shielding Ethan's vital organs behind his broad shoulder.
"Julian," Adrian said, his voice deadly quiet.
"Step away from the vault."
"I don't think so, Adrian," Julian replied, resting the shotgun casually against his hip.
"Do you have any idea how much work it took to arrange this little family reunion?"
My stomach dropped into a bottomless pit.
"It was you," I whispered, stepping out from behind Adrian.
"You poisoned Ethan at the school."
Julian looked at me, his eyes devoid of any human empathy.
"Of course it was me, Clara," Julian sneered.
"You were so clever, hiding in Pasadena, working as a shop clerk."
"It took my private investigators three months just to confirm the boy's school registration."
"A simple scratch on the playground with a coated needle was all it took."
"I knew the rare blood marker would trip the international registry."
"And I knew Adrian would abandon every defense protocol in the city to come running."
Adrian’s chest rose and fell in slow, lethal rhythms.
"Why, Julian?" Adrian asked.
"The syndicate was already yours to run while I managed the overseas logistics."
"I didn't want your scraps, Adrian!" Julian shouted, his composed mask suddenly cracking with decades of festering jealousy.
"Father gave you everything!"
"The empire, the respect, the seat at the head of the table!"
"And then you fell apart when this little nobody ran away seven years ago!"
"You became weak!"
"You refused to wipe out the Moretti family because you didn't want blood spilling onto civilian streets!"
"The board of directors is tired of your hesitation, Adrian."
"Dante Moretti offered me eighty percent of the western trade routes if I eliminated the Blackwood bloodline once and for all."
Ethan let out a weak, agonizing cough, a drop of dark blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"He has less than ten minutes, Julian," I begged, taking a desperate step forward.
"He's your nephew."
"He's a seven-year-old child."
Julian racked the slide of his shotgun with a deafening metallic clatter.
"He is a rival claimant to the Blackwood estate," Julian said coldly.
"And he dies tonight."
Adrian looked at me from the corner of his eye.
In that single, unspoken glance, seven years of separation vanished.
We were back in sync, just as we had been when we survived the Chicago ambushes together.
"Clara," Adrian whispered under his breath.
"When I drop, run straight for the console."
May you like
Before Julian could raise the barrel, Adrian deliberately kicked an industrial metal oxygen tank resting against the elevator wall.
The pressurized brass valve sheared off against the concrete floor, turning the heavy steel cylinder into a roaring, high-velocity projectile.
