Chapter 7
Silas spun his monitor around so Jax could read the scrolling data stream illuminated against the dark screen. At the top of the cascading financial tree was a shell corporation registered overseas, but the operational signature beneath it pointed directly to a domestic logistics firm called Apex Transport. "Apex?" Jax murmured, narrowing his eyes as memories of his past life resurfaced. "That was my old supply front when I ran security for the port syndicate. I left it clean and dissolved the registry." Silas puffed on his cigarette, blowing a thin ring of grey smoke toward the high rafters. "You dissolved the public registry, sure. But someone kept the back-door keys active. Look at the asset transfers from three years ago."
Jax scrolled down the data, his trained eye parsing the complex web of offshore accounts and real estate purchases. The funds tracing back to Apex Transport were funneling directly into the personal accounts of a man Jax thought he would never see again: Marcus Vance, his former second-in-command who had supposedly vanished during the final federal raid on the syndicate's main docks. A cold realization washed over Jax. Marcus hadn't disappeared; he had cut a deal with the federal prosecutors behind closed doors, turning state's evidence in exchange for immunity, keeping the entire syndicate infrastructure intact under a new, sanitized corporate banner.
"Marcus," Jax whispered, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned white. "The rat sold everyone out just so he could inherit the crown." Silas nodded grimly, tapping the ash of his cigarette into a tin can. "And he’s been expanding. Real estate buyouts, municipal contracts, hotel renovations—including the Grand Palace Hotel where your chandelier incident happened tonight. Marcus owns the holding company that approved the structural modifications on that ballroom." The pieces of the puzzle clicked violently into place. Marcus hadn't just wanted to eliminate a random target; he had tracked Jax’s movements, knowing Jax would attend the high-profile banquet, and engineered the "accident" to test Jax's reflexes and warn him to back off.
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"Where is he operating out of now?" Jax asked, his voice deadpan and absolute, carrying the chilling authority of a man who had nothing left to lose. Silas typed a few final keystrokes, bringing up a live satellite feed of an upscale corporate penthouse overlooking the city's financial district. "Top floor of the Apex Tower downtown. Private security detail, biometric locks, bulletproof glass. He's practically untouchable legally, because his corporate shell is shielded by half a dozen high-priced defense attorneys." Jax stood up straight, rolling his broad shoulders as he reached inside his suit jacket to check the concealed holster beneath his arm, confirming the cold steel of his firearm was locked and ready.
"Legal protection doesn't mean much when you're dealing with ghosts, Silas," Jax said, turning toward the heavy warehouse door. Silas watched him with a look of deep concern. "You go walking into Apex Tower alone, Jax, you're walking into a slaughterhouse. Marcus knows you're coming now." Jax paused with his hand on the deadbolt, looking back over his shoulder with a fierce, resolute glint in his eyes. "He thinks I'm the same man who walked away ten years ago," Jax replied softly. "He's about to find out that a fallen cake and a saved boy changed the rules of the game." With that, Jax pulled the door open and stepped out into the misty night, leaving Silas and his glowing monitors behind as he headed toward the final confrontation.
