Chapter 960
A figure walked through. He was flanked by mercenaries in unmarked tactical gear, faces hidden behind helmets. The man leading them wore no gear at all — just a prisoner’s jumpsuit, torn and stained, with a trench coat thrown over it like an afterthought.
He stopped in the center of the room and looked directly at Alistair.
Skye drew a sharp breath. Parker knocked the mouse off the desk.
It was the face that haunted Alistair’s nightmares — the face he had hoped never to see again outside of a courtroom or a grave.
Dominic Thorne.
He looked older, his face gaunt, his hair a shock of white. But the eyes were unchanged — the same cold, predatory grey as his son’s.
“Hello, Alistair,” Dominic said. His voice was gravel and ash.
“You escaped,” Alistair said. No surprise. Only cold fury. “You were supposed to be rotting in a Supermax cell.”
“I have friends in high places,” Dominic smiled, revealing yellowed teeth. “The Administrator has a very long reach, son.”
“The Administrator,” Skye repeated, her voice quiet and deliberate. “So he was the one pulling your strings.”
“He was the architect,” Dominic corrected, his eyes glinting. “I was merely the builder. And you, my ungrateful son, are standing in the way of renovation.”
A𝖽𝘥𝗂c𝗍i𝘃𝗲 s𝗍o𝘳𝗶eѕ 𝗈ո 𝗴𝘢𝗅𝗇𝗼𝘷е𝘭s.𝗰om
“Renovation?” Alistair scoffed. “Is that what he calls murder and human trafficking?”
“He calls it order,” Dominic said, stepping closer, his presence radiating menace. “Give me the drive, Alistair. Pandora is my insurance policy — the only reason The Administrator hasn’t liquidated me yet.”
“You want this?” Alistair held up the micro-SD card between his thumb and forefinger.
“I killed for it once,” Dominic said, his voice utterly devoid of remorse. “I’ll kill for it again.”
“You’re not killing anyone,” Liam said, moving to flank him, weapon raised. “You’re outnumbered.”
“Am I?” Dominic snapped his fingers.
From the shadows between the server racks, more mercenaries stepped forward. They had been waiting, patient and still. Guns leveled at everyone in the room.
“Alistair,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a grotesque imitation of fatherly warmth. “Don’t make me do this. Give me the drive. Join me. We could rule this city together. The Four Families are weak. We could be the only ones left standing.”
Alistair looked at his father — at the scars, the cold eyes, the insatiable greed carved into every line of his face.
“You’re right, Father,” Alistair said, his voice surprisingly calm. He lowered his gun slowly.
“Good boy,” Dominic smiled.
Alistair reached into his pocket and held the micro-SD card between his thumb and forefinger.
“Here,” he said.
He threw it — not to Dominic, but straight down onto the floor at his own feet. Then he brought his heel down.
Crunch.
The card shattered into irreparable fragments.
“There,” Alistair said. “Your insurance. Your leverage. Gone.”
Dominic stared at the broken pieces on the floor. His face went purple.
“You fool!” he screamed. “Kill them! Kill them all!”
A shot rang out — sharp, decisive. But it wasn’t from Dominic’s men. Liam had fired at the fire suppression pipe directly above the mercenaries’ heads.
White chemical foam exploded into the room, engulfing everything in a dense, choking cloud.
“Run!” Liam shouted.
.