Lighthouse Hotel — top floor, elevator lobby.
Irene stood beside Susie, clutching two suitcases, trembling with a tangle of nerves, excitement, expectation—and a respect that rose from the very depths of her soul. From the street to the hotel entrance she had seen the aftermath firsthand: uncollected limbs, pools of blood staining the plaza. The Lighthouse Hotel's reputation had never felt more immediate—bloody, mysterious, powerful, and ruthlessly disciplined.
She looked down at the two carefully prepared gifts in her hands, then at Susie standing nearby with her composed, elegant manner. A flicker of hope rose in Irene's chest.
Ding—
The elevator arrived and pulled her back to the present. She followed Susie inside and pressed the top-floor button. Her heart hammered—this was the first time she'd ever been up here.
Susie must have noticed her anxiety; she offered a reassuring smile. "Ms. Irene, there's no need to be nervous. If Mr. Cross invited you up to the top floor, he clearly intends to entrust you with something important."
"Thank you, Susie… I'll carry out whatever Mr. Cross asks of me." Irene answered, voice steady but earnest.
"I believe you can do it. Good luck." Susie's words were small encouragements, but they steadied Irene.
The elevator reached the top. Susie stepped out first; Irene followed quickly. They arrived at the door to a presidential suite. Susie opened it and led her into the living room.
Susie walked to the sofa and announced, "Mr. Cross—Ms. Irene has arrived."
Irene bowed slightly, head lowered. "Mr. Cross, it's an honor to see you again."
Before Alex could turn, Irene continued out of habit—polite, deferential. Alex rose from the couch, turned, and watched the woman at the doorway. He liked the way she carried herself. He pointed to a single armchair. "Please, sit."
Irene set her suitcases down and took the seat. Alex glanced at the two cases with a casual look, but said nothing. Instead he walked to the liquor cabinet.
Irene hurried to explain, too eager to be silent. "Mr. Cross, I brought you two gifts." She opened the left case: neatly stacked banknotes—about two million dollars. In the right case, rows of gold coins—High Table minted sovereigns. At a glance, there were roughly three hundred of them.
"We found these in the Night Demon's old base during the hotel lockdown," she continued. "Bruno, the head of the Deli gang, and I launched a raid on the Old Saint — the Saint D's strip club. We got into the manager's safe and recovered some cash and these coins. I saw similar coins in the hotel, so I thought they might be useful to you." She spoke quickly, anxious to explain herself as Alex's eyes lingered on the coins.
Alex withdrew his gaze and sized Irene up more carefully. Then, casual as ever, he asked, "You've been here these past two days. You must know what went on at the Lighthouse. Have you ever thought of breaking free from the organization's coercion?"
Irene stood up immediately and answered with such sincerity it sounded like conviction. "Mr. Cross—Irene will always be loyal to the Lighthouse." Her voice left no room for doubt.
Alex smiled faintly and motioned for her to sit. Then he got to the reason he'd summoned her. "Tell me—now that the Night Demon is effectively finished, what's the situation with the gangs around New York? What are they doing these days?"
Irene's face fell; she brought unwelcome news. "Although the Night Demon group is now essentially a name only, the Vietnamese gang's leader is still resisting. To take them down will take at least another two weeks."
Alex's brow tightened. She had originally promised that the Night Demon territories would be taken within a month. If a single Vietnamese gang would take half that time, the one-month target was clearly slipping out of reach.
Irene read his expression and hurried to explain. "The reason it'll take two weeks is because I trusted Vigo and his crew too much. During the hotel lockdown, Vigo started thinking he could seize power for himself—he thought the Lighthouse was finished and tried to recruit others to his side."
"So Vigo tried to sway them, thinking the Lighthouse was done?" Alex said, letting the core problem stand naked.
Irene couldn't admit organizational weakness; she pressed on. "Vigo pulled Harold in. They haven't openly broken ties—but the alliance is effectively dead. They even half-heartedly sent a few men when we planned a joint strike on the Vietnamese gang."
Alex's smile faded. He turned and looked at Duggan, who sat not far away. "Bring a team and bring Vigo to me. If he resists, handle it—no mercy."
Then Alex looked across the room at Ramsey, who was busy writing code for the 'Prism' system. "Pull up Harold's family tree and cross-check every relative—anyone connected to him gets flagged."
Finally he faced Irene again. "Tell me everything you need taken care of. This time, I'll clear all your problems out at once."
Irene felt the weight of that promise settle over her like a shield. She had come with gifts and information—and now she left with a commitment that felt like salvation.
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