Chapter 10 - The Family Weapon
The revolver trembled in Clara’s hands, the heavy steel gleaming dully under the harsh red emergency lights. The boat bobbed violently against the concrete wall as another wave crashed through the open bulkhead, splashing cold spray over her silver dress. Marcus didn't flinch at the sight of the gun. He simply exhaled another thin plume of smoke, his eyes fixed on his daughter with a disturbing mixture of disappointment and pride.
"You always did have your mother’s temper, Clara," Marcus said, taking a slow step toward the edge of the concrete slipway. "She pulled a piece on me the night she found out about the offshore routing numbers. Look how well that worked out for her."
"Shut up!" Clara screamed, her voice cracking as tears mixed with the salt water on her cheeks. "You didn't protect her. You used her death as leverage to take over the entire board! Every single name in that ledger leads back to you!"
Julian scrambled to his feet behind her, his velvet shirt soaked and clinging to his frame. He reached out cautiously, his silver rings catching the red light as he placed a hand gently on Clara’s shoulder. "Clara, don't. If you pull that trigger, the sound will echo through the entire cliffside. The sniper outside won't miss."
The sniper on the outer ledge shifted her weight, the red infrared dot snapping from the boat's hull and locking directly onto the center of Clara’s forehead.
Marcus raised a single tattooed hand, signaling the sniper to hold fire. He leaned forward slightly, his face hardening into a mask of pure ice. "Put the gun down, Clara. You don't have the stomach to use it against blood."
"You stopped being my father the day you signed the custody papers and put a leash on me to secure the merger," Clara whispered, her finger tightening slightly on the trigger guard. "You didn't raise a daughter, Marcus. You built an asset."
"And assets are meant to be deployed," Marcus replied coldly. He snapped his fingers twice.
From the shadows behind the water intake valves, two heavy-set men in plainclothes stepped out, each holding suppressors mounted to their sidearms. Before Julian or Clara could react, the two guards raised their weapons and fired two rapid, suppressed shots into the concrete wall just inches above Clara’s head, showering them with chips of grey stone and dust.
Clara screamed, stumbling backward and dropping the revolver into the bilge water with a dull splash.
Julian lunged forward, grabbing the gunwale to steady himself as the boat rocked dangerously. "Marcus, you insane bastard! She's your own flesh and blood!"
Marcus turned his back on them, walking slowly toward the steel staircase leading back up into the mansion.
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"Flesh and blood is just meat with a pedigree, Julian," Marcus called out over his shoulder without turning around. "You have ten minutes before the tide seals the bulkhead. Find the box, or drown with the rest of the dynasty."
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