The most terrifying weapon you can hold against a powerful man is not a loaded gun, but the absolute truth about his darkest secrets.
The heavy air inside the abandoned Vance Group warehouse smelled of damp salt, rusted iron, and old wooden shipping crates. Outside, the dark city docks were dead quiet, save for the rhythmic lapping of the black ocean water against the concrete piers. Inside, a single overhead industrial lamp swayed gently on its cord, casting long, erratic shadows across the vast concrete floor.
Victor Vance sat tied securely to a heavy metal chair in the center of the empty space, his expensive tailored gray suit wrinkled and smudged with grease. His private jet had landed at the northern airfield exactly as scheduled, but instead of being met by his local corporate esc
