Chapter 9 - The Moving Execution
I stood perfectly still as Viktor’s supposed loyalists surrounded us in the lobby.
Viktor placed his bloody hand on the small of my back and guided me toward the exit.
"Get Mercer out of here," Viktor ordered the men, pointing at Daniel.
"We have exactly thirty seconds to reach the boardroom."
The lead man, a towering brute named Grigori, opened the door of a waiting armored limousine.
Viktor pushed me into the back seat and slid in beside me.
Grigori climbed into the front passenger seat, and the driver immediately hit the gas.
The limousine tore down Wall Street, the engine roaring like a caged beast.
"Did you secure the document, sir?" Grigori asked, looking at Viktor through the rearview mirror.
"I did," Viktor replied smoothly, tapping the thick envelope against his knee.
The tension in the car was suffocating, thick enough to choke on.
Viktor leaned closer to me, his voice barely a whisper against the hum of the tires.
"The courier was too stupid to orchestrate the ambush at the restaurant," Viktor murmured.
"He had help from someone very high up in my organization."
I looked at Viktor, silently asking him who it was.
Viktor didn't answer me; instead, he looked at Grigori in the front seat.
"Grigori, when did Pierce contact you?" Viktor asked conversationally.
Grigori stiffened, his hand slowly drifting toward the pistol in his shoulder holster.
"I don't know what you mean, boss," Grigori said nervously.
"You brought armor-piercing rounds to the bank," Viktor observed calmly.
"You only issue those rounds for sanctioned hits, and I never sanctioned one."
Grigori spun around in his seat, drawing his weapon with terrifying speed.
He didn't even get the chance to aim.
Viktor fired a single, deafening shot directly through the leather partition.
The bullet struck Grigori squarely in the chest, blowing him back against the dashboard.
The driver screamed in panic, swerving the heavy limousine wildly across the empty avenue.
"Keep driving!" Viktor roared, pressing the hot barrel of his gun against the back of the driver's head.
The driver immediately straightened the wheel, trembling violently.
"Pull up to the tower," Viktor commanded.
The limousine screeched to a halt in front of a massive glass skyscraper.
Viktor grabbed my hand and we bolted out of the car, sprinting through the revolving doors.
We hit the private elevator and Viktor swiped his bloody keycard, pressing the button for the penthouse.
"You just killed your own captain," I gasped, my head spinning from the violence.
"I killed a traitor," Viktor corrected, watching the floor numbers climb rapidly.
The elevator doors chimed and slid open, revealing a massive, luxurious boardroom.
Sitting at the head of a long mahogany table was a sharply dressed man with a cruel smile.
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"You are late, Viktor," Pierce announced to the room full of silent, powerful men.
"The vote has concluded, and I am the new head of the commission."
