Chapter 3 - Cleaning the Board
Rain continued to pour over the city as a black unmarked van pulled into the alley behind the Hawthorne Cultural Center.
Inside the van sat Dante, Luca’s chief of security—a broad-shouldered man whose silence was far more terrifying than any threat. beside him, sitting in the passenger seat with a glowing laptop, was Elena.
She had showered, washed the blood from her skin, and dressed in a simple black sweater and trousers. Her damp hair was pulled back into a tight braid. Though her hands were cold, her mind was crystal clear. Luca had ordered her to stay at the penthouse, but Elena had refused.
If my life is on the line, I am not sitting in a golden cage, she had told him.
Luca had stared at her for five long seconds before nodding curtly and instructing Dante to take her along—under heavy guard.
“The building’s central server is accessed through the basement junction,” Elena said, her voice steady over the radio earpiece she wore. She was looking at the architectural blueprints of the Hawthorne Center. “Dante, the security guard at the rear entrance is named Frank. He owes eighty thousand dollars to an illegal gambling ring in Queens.”
“I know Frank,” Dante’s deep voice responded from inside the building. “Frank is currently taking an extended coffee break three blocks away.”
“Good. The coatroom is on the second floor, east wing. The fire suppression system in that corridor is controlled by a local circuit board. If you trip the sensor, it will flood the room with water, destroying any residual biological evidence on the carpet.”
“Copy that, Miss Russo,” Dante replied. “We are entering the room now.”
In the van, Luca sat beside Elena, his long legs crossed, a silent sentinel watching her work. He held a secondary receiver to his ear, listening to the movement of his men inside the venue.
“They’ve secured the package,” Dante reported after four tense minutes. “Shaw is wrapped and loaded. No sign of civilian disruption. But Miss Russo... you should know something.”
Elena pressed her earbud closer. “What is it?”
“Shaw’s coat,” Dante said. “Inside his inner pocket, we found an encrypted hard drive and a list of names. It looks like Mercer had an insider inside your accounting department, Miss Russo.”
Elena felt a cold spike of shock go through her chest. “An insider? In my team?”
She managed a team of six elite forensic accountants. They were hand-picked, paid four times the industry standard, and cleared by Luca’s private intelligence apparatus.
“Who is on the list?” Luca demanded into his radio, his voice instantly dropping into a tone of pure authority.
“Just one name, boss,” Dante answered. “Victor Vance.”
Elena gasped softly. Victor was her senior assistant—a brilliant, quiet young man she had personally mentored for two years. His mother had been sick with cancer six months ago, and Elena had used Valenti charitable funds to pay for her treatment.
“Victor,” Elena whispered, her heart breaking slightly. “I trusted him.”
“Trust is a luxury we don't grant twice,” Luca said coldly. He looked at Dante’s van driver. “Call the penthouse. Have Victor brought to the estate immediately. Tell him there is an urgent audit emergency.”
“Luca, wait,” Elena said, reaching out to touch his sleeve. “Victor isn't a killer. He’s twenty-four years old. If Mercer got to him, it was through leverage. Let me talk to him first.”
Luca looked down at her hand on his sleeve. Her touch was warm, fragile against his dark coat, yet holding an undeniable weight.
“He betrayed you, Elena,” Luca said softly. “He gave Mercer your schedule tonight. He gave Shaw the key code to the coatroom.”
“I know,” Elena swallowed hard, her eyes filled with resolve. “And that makes him mine to handle. You promised me I was your equal, Luca. Let me deal with my department.”
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Luca searched her face in the dim cabin light of the van. He saw the woman who had used a hairpin to survive a monster, now preparing to face the traitor inside her own house. He felt an intense, overwhelming surge of pride—and something deeper, something he had fought against for two years.
“Very well,” Luca said softly. “You handle Victor. But I hold the rope.”
