Chapter 818
The sound of flesh hitting synthetic leather echoed through the gym like gunshots.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
It was six in the morning. The estate was silent, except for the violence happening in the west wing.
I stood in the doorway, wrapped in a silk robe, watching.
Alistair was working the heavy bag. He wasn’t moving with his usual fluidity. The toxin had left a tremor in his nerves that he was fighting to suppress. His strikes were heavy and deliberate, but I could see the wince in his eyes with every impact. He was pushing himself too hard, trying to force his body back to a combat readiness it wasn’t quite ready for. Sweat slicked his back, highlighting the scars that mapped his history of violence. Every punch was fueled by a dark, simmering rage at his own temporary weakness.
The door behind me opened. Lucian walked in, holding a towel and a bottle of water.
D𝗼𝘸ոload𝗮𝘣𝘭𝖾 P𝖣𝘍𝘴 o𝗇 𝗀а𝘭n𝘰𝘃𝗲𝗹s.𝗰о𝘮
“Boss,” Lucian said. “You’re going to break your hand. Your recovery protocols require rest, not demolition. Take a break.”
Alistair stopped mid-swing. He didn’t turn around immediately. He stood there, chest heaving, staring at the dented bag.
Then he spun.
It wasn’t a telegraphed move, but it wasn’t the lightning strike of his prime either. Alistair launched a right hook straight at Lucian’s jaw.
Lucian, to his credit, didn’t flinch. He dropped the water bottle and slipped the punch, ducking under Alistair’s arm. He didn’t strike back; he knew Alistair wasn’t at one hundred percent. He grabbed Alistair’s wrist, twisting it back to restrain him.
“What the hell are you doing?” Lucian barked.
“Where were you last night?” Alistair roared, using leverage and body weight to slam Lucian into the weight rack. Metal clattered to the floor. “And don’t lie to me! Skye saw you.”
“That’s my business,” Lucian grunted, shoving Alistair back—gently but firmly.
“Your business is my wife’s safety!” Alistair lunged again.
They collided in the center of the mat. It wasn’t a sparring match. It was a release of tension, a clash between two men who trusted each other with their lives but were currently blinded by the paranoia of the cyber-war. Alistair grunted in pain as Lucian checked his momentum, the exertion clearly flaring old injuries.
“Stop it!” I yelled.
My voice cut through the testosterone fog.
They froze. Alistair had Lucian in a headlock; Lucian had a knee pressed against Alistair’s gut. They looked at me, breathing hard, hair messy, eyes wild.
“If you two have this much energy,” I said, walking into the room and throwing a blue folder onto the floor between them, “use it to make me some money. Or save what’s left of it.”
They slowly released each other. Lucian straightened his jacket, though a button was missing. Alistair wiped a speck of blood from his lip, grimacing slightly as his side twinged. He leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, the adrenaline crash hitting him visibly.
Lucian looked down at the folder. “What is this?”
“Travis Tate,” I said. “T.T.”
Lucian’s head snapped up. His eyes widened slightly. “You knew.”
“I always know,” I said coldly. “Travis Tate. The black sheep of the Tate family. Gambler. Addict. And apparently, your new pen pal.”
“He contacted me,” Lucian said, his voice low. “He has information on the cyberattacks. Specifics about the Blue Phoenix backdoor protocols. He wanted to sell it.”
“So you met him in an alley like a drug deal?” Alistair spat. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because he’s unstable,” Lucian shot back. “And he demanded five million dollars in hard assets—gold, diamonds. He knows digital currency is dead. I didn’t want to bring that trash to your doorstep until I verified the intel.”
“We don’t pay blackmailers,” I said, stepping closer. “And we don’t hide things from each other. Not anymore. Victoria is already ghosting us. She went dark twelve hours ago to track a lead on the Dark Web and hasn’t checked in since. I can’t have my head of security going rogue too. We are a unit.”
“He’s desperate,” Lucian said. “The Tate family cut him off. He’s drowning in debt to sharks who break legs, not banks that freeze accounts.”
“Good.” I smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Desperation makes people useful.”
I pointed at the folder. “That is the shareholder structure of Tate Corp. The stock is currently frozen, but the debt isn’t. I’ve been buying up their liabilities through shell companies since breakfast.”
Alistair picked up the folder, scanning the pages. A grin tugged at the corner of his bleeding mouth. “Leveraged buyout via debt acquisition?”
“Aggressive acquisition,” I corrected. “We don’t need to buy the intel from Travis. We’re going to own his inheritance.”
“You want to buy his family’s company to make him talk?” Lucian asked, looking at me like I was a terrifying creature he’d accidentally unleashed.
“I want to make him realize he doesn’t hold any cards,” I said. “I want him on his knees, begging to give us that information.”
“Travis is a snake,” Lucian warned. “He’ll bite.”
“I specialize in de-fanging snakes,” I said. “Bring him here. Tonight.”
And then, turning to leave, I added, “And Lucian, fix your shirt. You look sloppy. Next time, trust us.”
Alistair watched me go, then clapped a heavy hand on Lucian’s shoulder. “She’s right. Don’t keep secrets, Graves. It’s bad for your health.”