Chapter 14 - The Enemy of My Enemy
We emerged from the storm drains three miles away, shivering and completely soaked in freezing mud.
The distant sky glowed a violent, bright orange as my estate burned to the ground, taking Carlo's hit squad with it.
We sought refuge in a dilapidated, abandoned motel on the outskirts of the city, paying the terrified clerk with a stack of wet hundred-dollar bills.
Grace treated the bullet graze on her shoulder using a cheap first-aid kit, her face pale but fiercely determined.
Amara was finally asleep on the lumpy mattress, exhausted by the sheer terror of the night.
I paced the dirty carpet of the motel room, my mind racing through our incredibly limited options.
Carlo had my bank accounts, my security codes, and the absolute loyalty of the underground mercenaries who believed I was dead.
"We cannot run forever, Julian. Carlo has the resources to hunt us to the ends of the earth," Grace whispered softly.
She was entirely correct; as long as Carlo had access to the Volkov fortune, we would never know a moment of peace.
"He needs the offshore ledger to access the cartel's billions," I muttered, piecing the puzzle together.
Ivan Volkov kept a physical, encrypted hard drive containing all the routing numbers to his global bank accounts.
Without it, Carlo was just a man with a private army and no way to pay them long-term.
"Only one person alive knows where Ivan hid that ledger," I said, meeting Grace's worried gaze.
"Seraphina," Grace replied, her voice filled with deep apprehension.
My ex-wife was currently locked in a maximum-security federal prison waiting for her final sentencing.
Infiltrating a federal facility was suicide, but I had absolutely no other choice if I wanted to protect my daughter.
I spent the next twenty-four hours calling in the last few favors I had with corrupt government officials.
By midnight, I had secured a fake federal badge and a tailored suit that allowed me to bypass the prison's outer checkpoints.
I walked into the cold, sterile visitor's room of the penitentiary, my heart pounding with suppressed rage.
Seraphina was led into the room wearing a bright orange jumpsuit, her wrists bound by heavy steel chains.
When she looked up through the thick bulletproof glass and saw my face, a wicked, knowing smile spread across her lips.
"I heard your beautiful new house burned down, Julian," she taunted, picking up the visitation telephone.
I picked up my receiver, staring directly into the eyes of the woman who had sold our child.
"I need the location of Ivan's ledger, Seraphina, and I am not leaving here without it," I demanded coldly.
May you like
Seraphina laughed, leaning closer to the reinforced glass.
"And what exactly could a dead man possibly offer me in return?" she whispered maliciously.
