Chapter 7 - The Winter Gala
The annual L’Artisan Gourmand Winter Gala was the crown jewel of the city’s corrupt social calendar. Under the guise of a charity dinner, the deli was transformed into a subterranean auction house. Politicians, cartel bosses, and corrupt CEOs gathered to bid on the illicit goods Genevieve had hoarded over the year.
The shop floor was cleared of displays, replaced by velvet booths and a massive ice sculpture of a swan. The air was thick with the smell of roasting lamb, expensive cigars, and unchecked arrogance.
Elias stood near the front door, dressed in a pristine white tuxedo, playing the role of the dutiful servant. Upstairs, Elara was locked in the penthouse, heavily guarded by two of Genevieve’s most ruthless killers.
At exactly midnight, the auction was set to begin. Elias tapped his earpiece twice.
“I’m in position,” a voice crackled back. It was Silas, bruised but alive, hiding in the municipal sewer lines directly beneath the deli’s vault.
"Initiate phase one," Elias whispered.
Silas hacked the city’s power grid, triggering a localized brownout. The crystal chandeliers of the deli flickered and died. The emergency red lights hummed to life, casting the elite crowd in a hellish, blood-red glow.
Panic rippled through the room. "Keep calm! Backup generators will kick in momentarily!" Genevieve shouted, her voice echoing over the murmur.
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But they wouldn't. Silas had severed the main fuel lines to the generators.
In the chaos, Elias slipped away into the shadows, making his way toward the private elevator. He pulled the silenced Glock from his shoulder holster. The time for sneaking was over. It was time for war.
