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Chapter 9 - CHAPTER 9

"Julius!" 

"Everything in place?"

"Yes, as it should be."

"How about the consignment?"

"It is ready. We are patiently waiting for our dealer who should be here any minute. Senator Greek is ready for the exchange."

"Good, this deal must go smoothly. I've risked too much to secure the senator. Make sure he's handed over without any hitch. Your loyalty will be generously rewarded."

Julius smirked. "Of course, sir. You have my word."

Julius' voice came through, smooth and calculated like a politician campaigning for long life and prosperity.

Victor stood at the entrance listening to the con-man talk intently into the phone. At the other end was his inlaw, Lord Hartwell. The hoarse voice sounded like something out of a failed concert.

He watched as Julius dropped the call and scoffed. "Your word," he repeated under his breath. "As if that means anything anymore."

The day before, he had reached out to Julius — as a rich and powerful politician called Damon — with an offer too good to refuse: millions, upfront, and more later if he could swap the Kidnapped Senator with someone else; replace him with a decoy, deliver the fake to the dealer, and send the Kidnapped Senator somewhere else entirely.

Simple.

Julius had weighed the risks, but greed was a persuasive whisper in his ear. 

And now, Julius had assured Hartwell all was set. But like the hardened con-man he was, his greed for money had always made him stupid and disloyal.

He had sold out Hartwell for something more valuable— Victor's millions.

And the irony? Julius didn't know that Damon who just paid him off was right in their midst, disguised as a regular security guard in black uniform and a cap which shadowed his face. To them, he was just another silent grunt on the payroll. But beneath the uniform, Victor was watching everything.

He watched as Julius walked back into the warehouse where the operation was still moving like clockwork. The decoy, a half conscious man who looked nothing like senator Greek, was loaded into the crate. 

His phone buzzed but he ignored it; it was a message from Kate Hardy. For the first time, his mind wandered to Isabella. Her threat didn't sit well with him and at the same time cannot be disregarded. It was the case of offering your life on a platter to Isabella to decide on how best to wreck it. He couldn't afford to blow his cover now.

From the corner of his eyes, Victor saw Julius look up from his phone and fix them on him, trying hard to check him out. Too focused and calm. 

"Hey you," Julius said sharply. "Turn around."

Victor's pulse jumped. 

And just as he was about to turn, a green armoured sedan revved to a stop outside and the dealer steeped out, face like a bronze sculpture with eyes which suggest danger, and a cigar stuck between his lips.

His men swept the area, and with a hard nod, the buyer walked straight to the crate.

Julius approached, arms spread like God welcoming home a prodigal son. "Welcome. Everything's ready for you."

Victor shifted slightly, keeping his face turned. This was the moment.

The buyer ignored him with pride, snapped his fingers and one of his guards opened the crate.

Everyone leaned in as the crate cracked open, its lid rising slowly… revealing a man tied, blindfolded, and groggy from sedatives.

For a moment, the world stood still; and everyone held their breath, then the buyer's face twisted in fury.

"This is not Senator Greek," he growled. "What is this nonsense?"

Julius, the con-man stepped forward quickly, plastering on a calm expression. "What are you talking about? Is there a problem somewhere?"

The buyer flung his cigar to the ground and pointed. "Do you take me for a fool? I've met Senator Greek, and whoever is this… is not him!"

Tension hung fragile and guns were drawn but Victor stayed perfectly still.

Julius raised his hands in mock innocence, stammering. "Look, I—I was told this was the real deal. Maybe there's been a mix-up—"

Shut up, you snake! I paid you handsomely to do the swap!

Victor screamed within him.

The buyer snapped. "This was supposed to be a quiet, clean operation! Hartwell has betrayed me!"

"Wait!" Julius shouted, "Just wait, I can fix this."

But it was too late.

Then suddenly — BOOM!

Sirens wailed, tyres screeched and dozens of armed federal agents swept the warehouse in a commando fashion.

"FEDERAL SECURITY! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"

Panic erupted like wildfire as the dealer and his men scattered while Julius bolted toward a side exit.

The Bastard! Victor cursed.

The fake senator screamed as he was dragged out by a fleeing thug.

Victor remained still, slipping behind a pillar, eyes sharp. It was all unfolding perfectly. A fake consignment, a double-cross, and now, justice descending from above; just as he had planned.

Except… his chest tightened, like a nut was screwed deep into his cavities.

A sharp pain tore through his side.

It felt like cancer, heavy and cruel.

His breath caught and he staggered back.

"Hey!" A voice barked. A federal officer approached, gun half-raised. "You! Who are you with?"

Victor said nothing. He slowly raised his hands.

"Don't move," the officer said, stepping closer. "Name and ID."

Victor's knees buckled.

The officer caught him. "Hey! You alright?"

Victor blinked, struggling to focus. The pain was overwhelming now.

More agents were securing the scene as arrests were being made. Julius and the dealer had escaped.

But Victor stood in the middle of his own trap, body failing him, his heart pounding violently as he hung onto the last thread of life.

The officer shook him. "Hey, man, stay with me. What's your name?"

Victor managed a whisper. " Victor Lang—"

And then everything went dark and meaningless like a black hole.

His body collapsed into the officer's arms and sirens screamed around him, echoing off the metal walls of a warehouse that had just seen another piece of the game fall into place.

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