Chapter 8: The Price of Survival**
As Victoria leaned over the table, pretending to sign the document, she deliberately knocked a heavy glass water bottle off the edge. It shattered loudly on the concrete floor.
In that fraction of a second of distraction, Victoria pulled a high-voltage stun gun from her coat sleeve—a device she had acquired from her personal security team hours earlier—and drove it directly into the neck of the guard standing next to her. The man collapsed instantly, convulsing as his weapon clattered across the floor.
“Shoot her!” Richard screamed in a panic.
The second guard raised his firearm, but Elena threw her entire body weight forward, toppling the heavy wooden chair onto the guard’s legs. The gun fired wildly into the corrugated ceiling, showering the floor with sparks and plaster.
Victoria grabbed the fallen guard’s weapon, leveling it squarely at Richard with cold, unwavering precision. Her corporate poise was gone, replaced by a fierce, primal instinct to protect her blood.
“Drop your gun, Richard,” Victoria ordered, her voice cutting through the ringing warehouse. “Now.”
Richard’s hands shook as he looked at the barrel pointed at his chest. Outside, the distant wail of multiple sirens began to echo off the harbor walls.
“You called the police,” Richard stammered, his face turning pale. “You broke the deal!”
“I didn't call the police,” Victoria replied with a grim smile. “I called the FBI’s Human Trafficking and Financial Fraud division two hours ago. They’ve been tracking your offshore shell companies since the day Arthur died. It’s over.”
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Richard dropped his weapon, sinking to his knees as tactical officers breached the warehouse doors, floodlights blinding the room.
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