Chapter 12
396 Words
The roar of the Maserati faded into the squeezed hum of the private jet, but the tension in my chest didn't loosen. We were level at thirty thousand feet, the lights of the Italian coastline disappearing beneath a blanket of clouds.
Dante sat across from me, cleaning a dismantled pistol with methodical, rhythmic strokes. He didn’t look up when he spoke. "The Liquidator doesn't just wait in the fog, "Chiara". He becomes part of it. You’re playing a game with a man who views human lives as line items to be deleted."
"Then it’s a good thing I’ve already balanced the books," I said, opening my laptop. The screen glowed, reflecting the sharp angles of my face in the darkened cabin. I accessed the encrypted portal for the Salvatore Estate Holdings, watching the real-time ticker of our Cayman accounts.
The Broker had been busy. Tiny, untraceable increments of capital were draining out of the family’s shell companies—funds my father had spent decades laundering—and redirecting toward a secure escrow in London. It was a digital breadcrumb trail designed to lead a predator straight to his prey.
"You're using yourself as bait," Dante stated, finally snapping the slide back onto his weapon. The metallic clack echoed in the cabin.
"I’m using the Salvatore name as bait," I corrected. "There’s a difference."
A notification pulsed on the screen—a secure ping from an unidentified server in the UK. My breath caught. It wasn't a message; it was a GPS coordinate for a broken-down wharf near the Docklands. The Liquidator had received the flare.
I leaned back, the leather of the seat cool against my skin. For the first time in my life, the ghost of my father didn't feel like a shadow looming over me. He was just a memory, and I was the one holding the match.
"Dante," I said, watching the flight path on the monitor as we crossed the English Channel. "Make sure the ground team is ready at Heathrow Airport. And tell them to leave the heavy hardware in the trunk. I want the Liquidator to think I'm desperate, not prepared."
As the pilot announced our descent into the gray, swirling mists of London, I closed the laptop. The hunt was no longer in the shadows. It was on my terms now.
- Writer
