Chapter 4 - The Rat in the HouseThe temperature inside the security command center beneath the Blackwood Estate dropped to absolute zero the moment Lucas walked through the reinforced door.
Harold stood at the main desk, monitoring perimeter feeds, while three junior security officers operated the camera consoles.
Lucas didn't say a word. He walked to the center of the room, pulled out his pistol, and laid it casually on the steel console.
The metallic clatter echoed through the quiet room like a gunshot.
The three junior officers froze, looking up in shock. Harold turned, frowning in confusion.
"Boss? What's going on?" Harold asked.
"Ten hours ago," Lucas began, his voice dangerously low, "a seven-year-old girl arrived at the front gate. Only four people in this estate knew she was here before I sent Marcus to South Boston: myself, Harold, Mrs. Gable, and the guard on duty at the gate monitor."
Lucas turned his dark gaze slowly across the faces of the men in the room.
"Twenty minutes after Emma arrived," Lucas continued, "a phone call was placed from an encrypted satellite line inside this mansion to Victor Vance's personal cell phone. That call gave Victor the address of Claire Carter's apartment and the order to dispatch the Vipers to burn her alive."
A suffocating silence descended upon the room.
One of the junior officers—a man named Miller who had worked on the security detail for four years—swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly as they rested on his keyboard.
"Boss," Harold gasped, stepping forward, his face turning red with fury. "Are you saying we have a traitor in security?"
"I'm not saying it, Harold," Lucas said calmly. He reached down, picked up a remote control, and hit play on the central wall monitor.
The screen flickered to life, showing a internal system log of the estate's encrypted communications router.
"Every satellite call originating from this property passes through an automatic secondary recorder in my private safe," Lucas explained. "An hour ago, I ran a trace on the encrypted line."
The screen highlighted a single terminal IP address: Console 3.
Console 3 was Miller's station.
Miller’s face drained of every drop of color. He slammed his hands against the desk, pushing himself backward in his rolling chair, reaching frantically for his sidearm.
"Don't!" Harold roared.
Before Miller could clear his holster, Lucas stepped forward with terrifying speed. He grabbed Miller by his throat, slamming him violently against the steel control rack. The heavy console groaned under the impact as Miller’s gun clattered harmlessly to the floor.
Lucas tightened his grip on Miller's airway, his dark eyes burning with an unholy fire.
"Victor paid you," Lucas hissed, his voice a lethal whisper inches from Miller's ear. "How much was a child's life worth to you, Miller? Fifty grand? A hundred?"
"Lucas... please..." Miller choked out, his eyes bulging as he fought for breath. "He... he had my family... he threatened my sister..."
"You targeted a little girl," Lucas said, his grip tightening until Miller’s face turned purple. "You gave the order to burn a mother alive in her own home."
"Boss! Stop!" Harold shouted, grabbing Lucas's arm. "If you kill him now, we lose our leverage on Victor! We need him to set the trap!"
Lucas stared into Miller's terrified eyes for three agonizing seconds. The urge to snap the traitor's neck was almost overwhelming, a visceral demand for vengeance that had been building inside him for eleven long years.
With a growl of disgust, Lucas shoved Miller onto the floor. Miller crumpled into a heap, gasping frantically for air while clutching his bruised throat.
"Bind him," Lucas ordered the remaining two guards, who moved instantly to cuff Miller's hands behind his back with steel restraints. "Put him in the holding cell downstairs."
Lucas turned to Harold, pulling a crisp linen handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his hands.
"Call Victor," Lucas commanded.
"What do I tell him?" Harold asked, his heart pounding.
"Use Miller's phone," Lucas said, a cold, calculating smile appearing on his lips. "Tell Victor that Miller personally verified that Claire Carter died in the fire at West Broadway. Tell him the ledger was destroyed in the flames. And tell him that I am hosting an emergency board meeting at the estate tomorrow night at eight o'clock to announce my retirement from the syndicate due to the recent attempt on my life."
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Harold’s eyes widened as he realized the brilliance of the trap. "You're baiting him. You're making him think he won."
"Victor has spent eleven years waiting to take my father's throne," Lucas said softly, stepping toward the door. "He won't be able to resist coming here to watch me surrender it. And when he steps inside this house... I will make sure he never leaves."
