Chapter 35 The Price Of Breaching Agreement
Julian’s car rolled to a stop before the massive steel gates of Balto Keilani’s underground empire- a fortress hidden beneath the city’s industrial sprawl.
“Be safe in there, boss.” Vincent said to Julian before he stepped out. He knew Julian didn’t need those words, but Vincent had always cared even though he knew Julian could handle himself.
Men in black coats and weapons strapped to their belts stood at every turn, their eyes hard and watchful. Yet as soon as they saw Julian Thorne, they straightened and stepped aside. Everyone here knew him- the silent, dangerous man Balto often trusted to do the impossible.
He walked through low-litted corridors lined with different artifacts. The space smelling like old-arab money perfumes and sages’ smoke.
Two more guards opened a heavy door for him, and just like that, Julian stepped into Balto’s private chamber. His jaw clenched, readying himself for the unpredictable man.
Balto Leilani sat like a dark king behind his desk—a tall man in his early forties with a trimmed beard and eyes that always looked as if they were smiling at someone’s pain. A thin trail of cigarette smoke coiled above his head.
He didn’t speak at first. He only watched Julian as though assessing a pet who had bitten its master.
“Balto,” Julian greeted quietly, respectful but grounded.
“Julian.” Balto called his name slowly like something he cherished.
“I apologize for disappointing you. Any explanation wouldn’t change what it is.” Julian asserted.
Balto Keilani relaxed into his seat, eyes narrowing at him. “I like you, Julian. You know the rules, and you don’t wait for that to be preached to you. Which is why I’m confident you already know you owe me. Big.”
Julian’s jaw tensed. He had expected that. He took a step closer, his tone measured. “Then tell me the price.”
Balto dragged from his cigarette, took his time exhaling, and finally leaned forward. “I’m putting you on another job.” He reached into his drawer, pulled out a photo, and dropped it on the desk. “There’s a kid that trended online recently. A sharp little boy with a photographic memory, they say. I want him.”
And just like that, Julian’s composure faltered.
His gaze fell on the photo — and his stomach dropped.
Phoenix.
He forced his voice not to shake. He couldn’t afford letting him know his relationship with the boy. “Why?”
Balto’s smile came lazily. “I don’t need him. Someone bigger than me does. They’ve paid good money- one that’s enough to erase your breach.”
“You should return the money. I won’t do it.” Julian opposed immediately.
Balto squinted. “There’s no defying me.”
Julian’s tone turned cold.
“I didn’t know you’d begun trading children.”
“Oh, I’ve always dabbled,” Balto said with a shrug. “You just never asked. I know you have your little moral lines, Julian. I respected that. But now…” he crushed the cigarette in the ashtray, “since you want out of my world, this will be your last favor.”
Julian lifted his chin. “I’m sorry, but I don’t take jobs that involves trading children.”
Balto let out a low disturbing chuckle, then he stood up. He moved forward- slowly, then started circling Julian like a predator sizing its prey. His voice lowered to a hiss. “You know, with one call, I could destroy everything you’ve built. Zenith, your contracts, your clean image — all would be gone in a matter of little time. You owe me, Julian. Don’t test how far my hand can reach.”
Julian’s fists curled, but he said nothing. His silence was answer enough. He was bent on his NO.
Just then a sharp commotion echoed from the corridor- a muffled cry, footsteps, and the sound of resistance. Two guards burst in, dragging a woman between them.
“We found her sneaking around the garage,” one of them said.
Julian froze before his head veered around to see who the captive was. Seraphina. His eyes widened.
She struggled in their hold. “Let me go!”
Balto’s gaze snapped toward her, and his expression shifted into amusement. “And who do we have here?”
He reached for his gun, the barrel glinting under the low light as he prepared to shoot her dead right there. Seraphina tensed terribly.
But before Balto could point his gun, Julian stepped forward. “She’s with me.” Balto raised a brow at him, as if asking him to expansiate.
“She’s my fiancée, and she wasn’t sneaking around. We came here together.” The guards released her, and she shook off what was remaining of their touch on her body. Heavy breaths dropped from her nose and mouth.
Balto stopped, eyes narrowing. Then, a grin spread slowly across his face. “Ah, the Moreau girl you proposed to last week. That made some quiet wave in the tech world.”
Seraphina tried to hold her ground, but fear rippled through her. Her eyes darted around the room. To the smoke curling in the air, the guards, anywhere but Julian. She couldn’t dare to look him in the eye in that moment.
— Yet she kept her chin high, a faint frown cutting through her fear as Balto’s hand reached up to brush her cheek.
“She’s off-limits.” Julian blurted, voice hard.
Balto ignored him, studying Seraphina like she was a relic he’d long forgotten. “When your father, Ambrose Moreau, was alive,” he started softly like he was talking about what she already knew, “he was my mentor. What a brilliant man Ambrose was. Ruthless, but brilliant. He had always hide you away like a diamond he couldn’t afford to lose. Even back then, I had cherished the clever teen you.”
That collected all of Seraphina’s attention. Julian’s thick brows furrowed, reacting to the sudden unexpected familiarity.
“I don’t even know you.” Seraphina said, her voice detached.
But Ambrose continued. Not minding that he had just created confusion.
“I felt sorry when I heard you’d died in that fire. You have no idea how impressed I was to see you on screen, that you’re alive.”
Julian’s expression turned stone as he wondered where Balto was going with this.
Balto turned back to Julian, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Bring me the boy, Julian. Or I’ll take her instead.”
And just like that, the room went silent. Seraphina felt her heart stopped for a second. Julian’s jaw clenched hard, his hands turning to fists beside him.
“You have forty-eight hours, Julian Thorne. Another breach means death.”