Chapter 9 - Inside the Lion's Den
The interior of Hangar 4 was cavernous, smelling strongly of aviation fuel, hydraulic fluid, and burning tobacco. Rows of metal tool chests and spare wing panels lined the concrete walls, casting long, distorted shadows beneath the harsh industrial halogen lights.
Sal Moretti Jr. stood near the open loading ramp of the Gulfstream, supervising two mercenaries as they loaded heavy metal briefcases into the cargo hold. Sal looked relaxed, wearing an expensive designer leather jacket, a gold Rolex glinting beneath the overhead lights.
Declan stepped through the side personnel door, closing it with a soft click that was entirely swallowed by the roar of the jet engines.
“Hey! You aren't supposed to be inside the restricted zone,” one of the mercenaries barked, turning around with his rifle raised.
He never got a second chance to speak. Declan’s Glock barked once, the suppressed round punching a clean hole through the mercenary’s chest. The man dropped instantly, sprawling across the concrete floor.
Sal Moretti spun around, his face draining of all color as he locked eyes with Declan across the hangar floor. The second mercenary scrambled for cover behind a hydraulic lift, but Declan was faster, squeezing off a double-tap that neutralized the threat before he could raise his weapon.
Sal froze, his hands instinctively flying up into the air, trembling violently. “Declan... holy hell. How are you even alive? We checked your estate manifest—the federal raids—!”
“You underestimated me, Sal,” Declan said coldly, walking slowly across the hangar floor, his boots echoing sharply against the concrete. He kept the barrel of his rifle locked squarely on the center of Sal’s chest. “You thought you could use my wife, manipulate my security chief, and turn my life into a sick psychological experiment while you looted my accounts.”
Sal swallowed hard, sweat beading across his forehead as he backed up against the landing gear of the Gulfstream. “It... it was just business, Declan! Camille came to us! She wanted out, she wanted your money, and we just provided the platform! We didn't mean for it to go this far—”
“Liar,” Declan snapped, stepping within arm's reach.
May you like
Before Sal could react, Declan brought the butt of his rifle down hard across Sal’s jaw. The syndicate heir crumpled to the floor with a groan, spitting blood onto the pristine white tarmac. Declan kicked him onto his stomach, zip-tying his wrists behind his back with ruthless efficiency.
“You’re going to answer a few questions for me, Sal,” Declan whispered, leaning down over him. “Starting with where the rest of the offshore server backups are hidden.”
