Chapter 8 - The Ghost of Sterling
The firefight in the subterranean levels ended as quickly as it began. Marco returned ten minutes later, dragging the sole surviving operative by the collar of his tactical vest, shoving the bleeding man onto the concrete floor in front of Alessandro.
The operative spat a mouthful of blood onto the pristine floor, glaring up at Alessandro with defiant hatred. "You think you've won, Moretti? Sterling owns the city council. He owns the federal marshals. You can't hide behind your dogs and your guns forever."
Alessandro walked slowly toward the kneeling man. He didn't raise his voice; he didn't look angry. He looked entirely dead inside—the face of a man who had stared into the abyss for so long the abyss stared back.
"Tell Viktor that his cleanup crew is performing below average," Alessandro said softly, placing the barrel of his pistol gently against the man's forehead. "And tell him that anyone who steps foot on my property hunting my guests doesn't get a trial."
"Wait!" Sophia cried out, stepping forward.
Alessandro paused, looking sideways at her. "Why? He came here to execute you."
"Because killing him doesn't stop Sterling," Sophia said, her voice shaking but resolute. "If Sterling wants me dead so badly, it’s not because I’m a random widow. It’s because of what my husband left behind before he died."
The kneeling operative’s eyes widened slightly—a micro-expression that didn't escape Alessandro’s notice.
"What did David leave behind?" Alessandro demanded, pressing the barrel harder.
"His... his digital ledger," the operative choked out, terrified. "He backed up all of Vanguard Holdings' fraudulent transactions onto an encrypted drive before the scaffold gave way. Sterling has been searching for it for three years. He thought you had it, Moretti!"
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Alessandro slowly lowered his pistol. He looked at Sophia, the final puzzle piece sliding into place. "Where is the drive?"
Sophia swallowed hard, her mind racing back to the day of her husband's funeral, remembering the heavy, waterproof locket David had slipped into her hand just hours before the accident—a locket she had sewn into the lining of Emma’s favorite winter coat.
