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Chapter 856:
“I do not care,” Cole said, his voice raw and unhinged. “I will burn the entire island of Manhattan to the ground before I let anyone take June’s patents from her. Do you understand me p>
The assistant choked and nodded frantically.
Cole released him. The assistant stumbled against the console, gasping. Cole straightened his own collar, his breathing ragged but slowing.
“Deploy three top-tier proxy agents to Sotheby’s,” he commanded. “They hold the paddle for Valkyrie p>
He turned back to the screens and pulled up NovaTech’s equity structure, locating the Middle Eastern sovereign fund backing Arthur Pendleton. He reached for the red secure phone connecting directly to his hedge fund managers in London.
“Listen carefully,” Cole said. His voice had gone to absolute zero. “I want ten billion dollars in leverage ready the second the NASDAQ opens. If Pendleton raises his paddle more than three times at Sotheby’s, execute a naked short-sell on NovaTech and simultaneously leak the fabricated financial scandals on their top three European acquisitions p>
The senior trader on the other end audibly gasped. “Mr. Compton, that is a suicide run. It will trigger a massive retaliatory strike from the Crown Prince’s sovereign backers p>
Cole slammed the receiver down.
𝗝o𝘪𝗇 оu𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝘮𝘂𝘯𝗂𝘵𝗒 𝗈n
The adrenaline drained away. A massive hollow ache opened in his chest. He dropped back into the leather chair and pressed his palms against his throbbing temples.
He turned his head to the left. A dedicated monitor displayed a live thermal satellite feed of June’s building. One window glowed with faint yellow light.
Cole raised his hand and pressed his fingertips against the cold glass of the screen, tracing the outline of her window.
“I will slaughter them all for you,” he whispered to the empty room, his voice cracking at the edges. “Even if you never look at me again p>
His assistant watched in silence and looked away, unsettled by what he saw — the most powerful man in New York reduced to a wound that refused to close, bleeding out in the dark for a woman who despised him.
Hours dissolved. The first light of morning pierced the Manhattan smog and reached even into the bunker through the ventilation grates. The server status lights shifted from red to green. The financial weapons were loaded.
Cole stood. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and smoothed his wrinkled collar without caring much about either. He walked to the biometric safe built into the wall, pressed his thumb to the scanner, and removed a compact Glock 19. He racked the slide with a sharp metallic clack and slid the weapon into the concealed holster at his lower back. He was taking no chances today.
His assistant handed him a double shot of black espresso. Cole threw it back in one swallow, the scalding bitterness forcing his exhausted nervous system into something resembling consciousness.
He checked his watch. Three hours until the auction.
“Have the convoy idling in the garage p>
He walked toward the private elevator. Just as the doors began to open, he stopped and turned, his eyes finding his assistant with absolute, quiet menace.