Chapter 7 - The Bloodline
Before Thomas Vane could process the words, the heavy stained-glass windows behind him shattered inward in a violent explosion of glass and rain.
Two high-caliber sniper rounds roared through the darkness outside, striking two of Thomas Vane’s bodyguards directly in the upper chest before they could even draw their weapons. The force of the heavy rifle rounds lifted the grown men off their feet and slammed them against the mahogany wall.
The remaining two guards drew their sidearms, but the heavy oak doors of the dining room blew off their hinges as Kang kicked them open.
Kang moved like a shadow, pulling twin suppressed pistols from his coat and firing four rapid shots. Both guards collapsed onto the carpet, dead before their guns hit the floor.
Thomas Vane scrambled backward out of his chair, his aristocratic composure completely shattered as he reached into his coat for a small silver pistol.
Daniel didn't draw a weapon. He stepped over the mahogany table with terrifying speed, grabbed Thomas by the lapels of his three-thousand-dollar suit, and slammed him down onto the table, shattering the crystal stemware and sending wine cascading over the white tablecloth like blood.
Daniel pressed his forearm heavily against Thomas Vane’s throat, cutting off his air supply.
Thomas gagged, his face turning dark red as his hands clawed uselessly at Daniel’s iron grip.
“You thought I became soft because I built a home?” Daniel whispered, leaning down until his lips were inches from the old man’s ear. “You thought I forgot where I came from?”
Kang walked into the room, stepping over the dead bodyguards, and handed Daniel a heavy leather folder.
Daniel held the folder in front of Thomas Vane’s bulging eyes and opened it.
Inside were high-resolution satellite photographs of a private estate in Martha’s Vineyard, a luxury yacht docked in Monaco, and a private boarding school in London.
In every photo, red target reticles were drawn over specific individuals: Thomas Vane’s two sons, his daughter-in-law, and his three young grandchildren.
Thomas’s eyes went wide with absolute, soul-crushing terror. He tried to speak, but Daniel’s forearm pinned his throat shut.
“While you were sitting on your private jet flying to Chicago,” Daniel said, his voice a calm, hypnotic purr of lethal intent, “my teams were taking positions in Massachusetts, France, and England. Every single member of the Vane bloodline is currently sitting in the crosshairs of a sniper rifle.”
Daniel eased the pressure on Thomas’s throat just enough to allow a ragged rasp of air into the old man’s lungs.
“No...” Thomas choked out, tears of genuine horror streaming down his aged face. “No... please... Daniel... not the children...”
“You marked my daughter,” Daniel said, his dark eyes devoid of all mercy. “You thought my family was a target. You forgot that my family is the only reason I let the rest of the world live in peace.”
Daniel leaned closer, his voice dropping into a whisper that chilled the air in the grand dining room.
“Here are my terms, Thomas,” Daniel said. “You will sign over all East Coast shipping contracts tied to the Midwest ports to the Han Corporation by midnight. You will wire five hundred million dollars into a blind trust established for my daughter Lena. And then you will return to Boston, you will retire from public life, and you will spend the rest of your miserable days sitting in your estate, knowing that if any man carrying Vane blood ever thinks of Chicago again, your entire family will cease to exist within sixty seconds.”
Thomas Vane trembled violently under Daniel’s grip. The powerful, untouchable syndicate chief had been reduced to a weeping old man on a wine-stained table.
“I... I accept...” Thomas sobbed, choking on his own breath. “I accept... just let them live...”
Daniel pulled back, releasing Thomas’s throat. The old man rolled onto his side on the table, coughing violently, clutching his chest.
Daniel adjusted his suit jacket, smoothed down his tie, and stepped back toward the doorway.
“Kang,” Daniel said without looking back.
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“Yes, Boss?”
“Escort Mr. Vane to his jet. Make sure he doesn't miss his flight.”
