Chapter 1091
“If he gets the money,” Alistair said, his voice low, “he won’t just purge The Order. He’ll come for the Vance territories. He wants total consolidation.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed. “Conrad Hayes has the Eye of Dawn. Is that the play?”
He already knew. Of course he knew. Julian Vance knew everything that happened in this city — he likely knew what Skye had eaten for breakfast, even from the other side of the ocean.
“We need to get it before Marcus does,” Skye said. “Conrad is unstable. He’ll sell to the highest bidder, or get himself killed in the process.”
“Conrad is a thief,” Julian corrected, a flash of genuine anger crossing his pale face. “He stole from me once. A minor offense — but I have a long memory.”
“Help us get the gem,” Skye proposed, stepping closer to the microphone. “We use your influence to draw him in. In exchange, Oracle Holdings will open its European shipping lanes to Vance Logistics. Exclusive rights.”
It was a massive concession — millions in revenue. Alistair looked at her sharply but said nothing.
Julian studied her through the lens for a long moment, weighing the cost, the profit, and perhaps the amusement.
“Done,” he whispered. “But on one condition. I deal with Conrad personally.”
“How? You’re four thousand miles away,” Skye said.
“Bring him to the room you are standing in now,” Julian smiled — and it was a terrifying expression, all teeth and no warmth. “My reach is long, Skye. And I need to remind this city what happens to thieves.”
Night fell over the estate like a heavy velvet curtain. Rain lashed against the concrete exterior of the hidden entrance.
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They were in the security command center, a room bathed in the cool blue glow of a dozen monitors. Julian’s face remained on the main screen, watching them like a deity summoned from the machine.
“He’s here,” Ethan said from the screen, checking a remote feed connected to their local network.
On the perimeter surveillance monitor, a flashy red Ferrari pulled up to the gate. The driver’s door swung open and Conrad Hayes stepped out. He looked like a caricature of a playboy — linen suit, unbuttoned shirt, hair slicked back with too much product. But his body language screamed panic. He was twitching, glancing over his shoulder, dragging the back of his hand across his forehead.
“Let him in,” Julian commanded through the speakers.
Skye watched from the shadows in the corner of the room, Alistair standing guard beside her. “Why did he come here?” she whispered.
“Because Julian is the only monster frightening enough to hold Marcus Cain at bay,” Alistair murmured back. “Conrad is seeking asylum in a lion’s den because the wolf is already at his door.”
They moved to the conference area to wait. Julian’s image was projected onto the wall at the head of the table, his presence so commanding that it felt as though he were physically presiding over the room.
The doors opened and Gabriel Ross shoved Conrad inside.