Chapter 10 - Blood and Empire
The pen wasn't just a writing instrument. It was a localized EMP detonator and a high-frequency acoustic beacon.
A deafening, high-pitched screech suddenly erupted from the pen, dropping every cartel thug to their knees as their eardrums were assaulted. The EMP pulse instantly fried the optics on their weapons and the ignitions of their getaway vehicles.
In the fraction of a second of chaos, Julian moved.
He didn't draw a gun. He drew a sleek, ceramic combat knife hidden in his sleeve. He closed the distance between him and Victor in two massive strides, driving the blade deep into Victor’s thigh.
Victor screamed, dropping his weapon.
Julian spun, driving his elbow into the face of the thug holding the gun to Elena’s head, knocking him out cold.
Suddenly, the water around the pier erupted.
Marcus and his elite tactical team hadn't come by helicopter or car. They had come in silently from beneath the water using stealth submersibles. Heavily armed frogmen climbed onto the docks, cutting down the disoriented cartel enforcers with ruthless precision.
Within sixty seconds, it was over. The enforcers were dead or surrendering.
Victor lay bleeding on the wooden planks, staring up in shock as Julian stood over him.
“You... you can’t,” Victor sputtered, coughing up blood. “The cartel... they’ll never stop hunting you.”
“Let them come,” Julian said coldly. “I’ll buy their debts and dismantle them from the inside. You’re done, Victor. This time, you rot in a supermax cell.”
Julian turned his back on his brother as Marcus slapped heavy iron cuffs on Victor’s wrists.
Julian dropped to his knees, frantically cutting the zip-ties off Elena’s wrists. She threw her arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest. Julian ripped open the metal trunk, pulling a screaming, terrified Leo into his arms, holding them both so tightly he thought his own ribs might crack.
“I told you,” Julian whispered, burying his face in Elena’s hair, breathing in the scent of her. “No one touches my family.”
One Year Later
The gala at the Sterling Tower was the event of the decade. The ballroom was a sea of diamonds and designer tuxedos.
Julian stood on the balcony, looking out over the glittering Chicago skyline. The cartel threat had been eradicated, systematically dismantled by Julian’s bottomless wealth and ruthless corporate warfare. David Vance was serving thirty years for conspiracy, and Victor was locked in a black-site prison where he would never see the sun again.
The sliding glass door opened, and Elena stepped out into the cool night air. She wore a stunning emerald green gown that perfectly matched her eyes. The cheap silver chain with the wedding band was gone; instead, a massive, flawless diamond rested on her left hand.
“You’re hiding from the board members again,” she teased, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.
Julian turned, pulling her flush against him. “I’m not hiding. I’m just admiring my most valuable asset.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
Julian leaned down, kissing her deeply, pouring every ounce of his love and devotion into it.
“You,” he murmured against her lips. “Always you.”
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Inside, baby Leo, now a thriving one-year-old, was being fussed over by a small army of doting nannies. The empire was safe. The bloodline was secure.
Julian Sterling had fought a war for his family, and he had won.
