Chapter 6: The Belly of the Beast
Marcus Blackwood’s silver wolf mask seemed to catch the harsh neon lights of the yacht, his smile faltering for a fraction of a second. "A debt? I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, my dear. I owe nothing to anyone."
"Not yet," Elena purred, stepping back to Julian’s side with flawless grace. "But the night is young."
Julian quickly intervened, stepping between them with a masterfully crafted laugh. "Marcus, forgive my companion. She has a theatrical flair. We are here to celebrate your upcoming Senate run, after all. Shall we discuss the campaign contributions over a drink?"
As Marcus's ego took the bait and he led Julian toward the VIP lounge, Elena faded into the glittering crowd. The moment the gold-lace mask was turned away from the party, her posture shifted. The elegant socialite vanished, replaced by the apex predator Julian knew her to be.
She slipped through a set of heavy mahogany doors marked Crew Only, moving with the silent, deadly precision of a ghost. The lower decks of the Leviathan were a stark contrast to the opulent ballroom above. It was a labyrinth of steel corridors, humming engines, and harsh fluorescent lighting.
Elena pulled a sleek, matte-black decryption drive from the hidden slit in her silk gown. She had ten minutes before Marcus realized Julian was stalling.
Two armed mercenaries in tactical gear stood guard outside the server room. They weren't standard maritime security; they were Blackwater ex-operatives, heavily armed and heavily paid.
Elena didn't hesitate. She stepped out of the shadows, swaying slightly as if she had consumed too much champagne. "Oh, my goodness," she giggled, pressing a hand to her forehead. "I think I took a wrong turn. Where are the powder rooms?"
The guard on the right sneered, lowering his rifle slightly. "Upstairs, lady. You aren't supposed to be down here."
As he reached out to shove her back by the shoulder, Elena moved. It was a blur of calculated violence. She grabbed his outstretched wrist, pivoted her weight, and drove her gold stiletto heel straight into his kneecap. The bone snapped with a sickening crunch. Before the second guard could raise his weapon, Elena spun, driving the palm of her hand upward into his jaw, instantly knocking him unconscious.
Neither man had time to scream.
Stepping over their bodies, she swiped a keycard from the first guard’s vest and flashed it over the scanner. The heavy steel door hissed open.
Inside, the servers hummed, blinking with blue and green lights. The heart of the Blackwood empire. Every offshore account, every illegal wire transfer, and every hitman payout was buried here. Elena plugged the drive into the main terminal. The screen flashed red, demanding a biometric bypass.
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Elena smirked, typing furiously on the keyboard. "You always were predictable, Marcus." She ran a decryption algorithm she had spent the last three years perfecting. Sixty seconds later, the progress bar hit 100%.
The sins of the Blackwood family were officially in her hands.
