My old emergency medical pager buzzed on the mahogany desk.
Only a handful of people in the world knew that frequency. I glanced at the caller ID and smirked. It was a burner phone number, but I didn't need to guess who was on the other end.
Darius, who was sitting across from me cleaning a matte-black customized handgun, paused. He raised a dark, questioning eyebrow.
"Right on schedule," I murmured, pressing the speaker button.
"Elara...?"
Julian's voice crackled through the speaker. He sounded pathetic, shivering, his voice dripping with a carefully manufactured desperation.
"Julian?" I modulated my voice instantly, dropping the icy composure of the Vance Heiress and replacing it with a faint, hesitant tremor. "How did you bypass my new security to reach this pager?"
"I... I remembered the emergency code from when you worked the night shifts," Julian coughed, playing the victim perfectly. "Elara, please don't hang up. I have nothing left. Chloe took the last of my money and abandoned me in a slum. I haven't eaten in two days."
I rolled my eyes, leaning back in my plush leather chair. Darius watched me, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face as he realized what I was doing. He stood up, walking silently around the desk until he was standing right behind me.
"Why are you calling me, Julian?" I asked, forcing a sigh into the microphone. "I told you, we are done."
"I know, I know! I was a blind, arrogant fool!" Julian sobbed loudly. "I just... I want to apologize face to face. To give you the formal apology you deserve before I leave this city forever. Please, Elara. Meet me at Pier 49. It's abandoned and quiet. No press, no bodyguards. Just us, one last time."
Pier 49. The exact center of the Vipera Cartel's smuggling territory. He really thought I was an idiot.
Darius leaned down, his broad chest pressing against my back. He trailed a single, calloused finger down my spine, sending a jolt of electricity through my body, even as I kept my voice perfectly fragile for the phone.
"Pier 49 is dangerous at night, Julian..." I feigned reluctance.
"I'll protect you, I promise! Just come alone, please. If Darius Blackwood's men see me, they'll kill me," Julian pleaded.
"Fine," I breathed out softly. "One hour. I'll come alone."
"Thank you, Elara! Thank you!"
Click. I ended the call and let out a short, cynical laugh.
"You are a terrifyingly good liar, darling," Darius murmured, his lips brushing against my neck. "If I didn't know better, I would have thought you actually felt sorry for that rat."
"He thinks he's playing the vulnerable ex-husband," I said, turning my chair to face Darius. "But he just handed us the Vipera Cartel on a silver platter."
Darius's eyes gleamed with dark, predatory excitement. "Dante has already positioned three sniper teams around Pier 49. The Ghost Unit is on standby in the water. We will surround them before they even know they are trapped."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a sleek, custom-made leather thigh holster. Inside were six gleaming, silver-plated throwing scalpels—perfectly balanced, razor-sharp, and deadly.
"I noticed you prefer blades over bullets," Darius said, kneeling before me and gently strapping the holster to my thigh, right over my black tactical pants. His touch was firm, possessive, and entirely distracting. "For the Living Yama."
"Thank you," I smiled, tracing the edge of the surgical steel. "They're beautiful."
"Not as beautiful as you," he said, looking up at me. "Ready to go hunting, wife?"
"Let's go catch a rat."
One hour later.
The rain lashed against the rusted metal of Pier 49. I walked alone under a black umbrella, the sound of the crashing waves masking the subtle hum of the earpiece hidden beneath my hair.
"I have eyes on you, Elara," Darius's voice echoed in my ear, deep and reassuring. "Five heat signatures hiding behind the cargo crates. Plus your ex-husband in the open."
I stopped under a flickering streetlamp.
Julian stepped out of the shadows. He looked like a drowned dog, shivering in his ruined suit. But as soon as he saw that I was truly alone, without any visible guards or Darius Blackwood, the pathetic, sobbing facade vanished.
A nasty, triumphant smirk twisted his face.
"You actually came," Julian sneered, shaking his head. "I always knew you were a sentimental, stupid bitch, Elara."
I tilted my umbrella back, my expression completely blank. "You're not here to apologize, are you, Julian?"
"Apologize?" Julian laughed, a manic, greedy sound. "You ruined my life! You took my company! But thanks to you, I'm about to be a millionaire again!"
He snapped his fingers.
From the shadows of the cargo containers, five heavily armed men stepped out, their assault rifles aimed directly at my chest. The leader, a man with a serpent tattoo on his neck, grinned maliciously.
"Good job, Thorne," the tattooed man said. "The boss will be thrilled. The Living Yama, delivered right into our hands."
Julian backed away safely behind the gunmen, his eyes flashing with vindictive joy. "Say goodbye to your new billionaire life, Elara. Should have stayed in the kitchen."
I looked at the five rifles pointed at me.
And then, I smiled. A slow, terrifying smile that made Julian's triumphant grin falter.
"Julian," I said, my voice echoing coldly through the rain. "Did you really think the woman who controls the Vance Empire... would walk into a trap without bringing her own monsters?"
I tapped my earpiece.
"Now, Darius."