Chapter 8 - The Masks Fall Away
The curtains parted, and Cassian stepped out of the shadow into the dim light of the banker's lamp.
He was not wearing his tuxedo jacket. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular, corded forearms. In his right hand, he held a sleek black tablet. The screen displayed a live audio recording waveform that was actively syncing with a remote server.
Julian dropped his glass. The crystal shattered across the hardwood floor, dark amber liquid soaking into the rug. "Cassian... how long have you been there?"
"From the moment you grabbed her in the hallway," Cassian said, his voice terrifyingly calm. He walked slowly across the room, the sound of his shoes crunching over the broken glass like bones snapping underfoot. "Did you really think I didn't know about your backdoor meetings with Warren at the Drake Hotel, Julian? Did you really believe my chief of security was ever loyal to anyone but me?"
"You... you knew?" Julian stammered, backing toward the locked double doors, his face drained of all color.
"I have monitored every keystroke, every phone call, and every transaction you have made since the day our father was buried," Cassian said, stopping three paces from his brother. "The rule I gave Penelope wasn't designed to keep her safe from you, Julian. I knew you were too cowardly to lay a violent hand on her. The rule was designed to protect you from me."
Cassian’s eyes flared with an infernal rage that made the entire room feel as though the oxygen had been sucked out. "Because I promised our dying father that I would never destroy you unless you gave me no other choice. And tonight, you crossed that line."
Suddenly, the wail of heavy sirens tore through the rain outside. Headlights swept across the high arched windows as heavy armored vehicles crunched across the gravel driveway.
"The feds are here!" Julian shrieked, a desperate spark of hope returning to his eyes. "You're done, Cassian! Warren has tactical clearance! They’re breaching the house!"
"Look out the window, Julian," Cassian commanded softly.
Julian scrambled toward the glass, his hands trembling as he parted the drapes.
Outside, the tactical team was not arresting Cassian's security guards. Instead, dozens of uniformed officers from the Federal Internal Affairs Bureau and the State Attorney General’s Special Crimes Unit were surrounding a dark unmarked van. Special Prosecutor Warren was currently being pulled from the driver's seat by two federal marshals, his hands cuffed behind his back, his briefcase of illegal surveillance files seized on the pavement.
"Warren wasn't running a legal operation," Cassian said, standing directly behind his trembling brother. "He was running an extortion syndicate using falsified emergency warrants. And thanks to this recording of you admitting to the entire fraudulent conspiracy, Julian, you are now classified as his primary co-conspirator."
May you like
Julian fell to his knees on the wet shards of glass, clutching his head, sobbing uncontrollably. "No! Cassian, please! We're brothers! Blood! You can't let them take me!"
"You tried to send me to a federal penitentiary for thirty years, Julian," Cassian said, not a shred of pity in his tone. "The guards will escort you to the front door. Your bags have already been packed."
