Chapter 311
"Why me?" Kate asked.
"The boss said you're the best at handling this kind of thing." Ace stubbed out his cigarette. "He also said if you screw this up, he'll personally pay Milo's parents a 'visit.'"
A naked threat from Owen.
Kate's hand under the table slowly clenched into a fist. She could feel her fingertips—ice cold and trembling slightly.
She looked up at Ace and suddenly smiled.
Her voice was soft, laced with icy mockery. "Ace, have you forgotten who I am?"
Kate picked up the flash drive and, right in front of Ace, dropped it into her water glass.
"Go back and tell him—my life belongs to him alone. Don't dirty my hands with people who have nothing to do with this."
Kate didn't stop walking until she turned into a deserted alley. Only then did she lean against the cold brick wall, gasping for air.
The night wind cut through her, and she realized her back was soaked with cold sweat.
A car pulled up silently at the mouth of the alley.
The door opened. Milo stepped out and strode toward her, pulling off his jacket and draping it over her shoulders.
"Come on, I'm getting you out of here. Right now." Milo grabbed her hand, trying to pull her toward the car.
Kate yanked her hand free.
"It won't work." She shook her head. "Wherever we run, he'll find us. As long as he's alive, we'll never have peace."
"Then what? Just wait around for him to kill us?" Milo's eyes were red with desperation.
Kate looked at him—at the panic and heartbreak in his eyes. That frozen heart of hers finally felt a flicker of warmth.
She reached up and gently touched his face.
"Milo, don't be afraid."
"We're not running anymore."
"This time, we're going to bury him here. For good."
---
The southern border. A remote stretch of coastline.
Twelve dark figures slipped from an inflatable boat like ghosts, landing without a sound.
Not even the hum of insects broke the silence.
Too quiet.
The team leader's heart sank.
Overhead, the roar of helicopter rotors tore through the air.
A voice crackled over the loudspeaker—cold, precise, emotionless.
"Noctule team, you are surrounded. Drop your weapons. Surrender is your only option."
One operative instinctively raised his rifle. The next second, a bullet struck it dead-on, sending it clattering against the rocks in pieces.
Sniper.
The team leader watched as uniformed officers emerged from the tree line, stars gleaming on their shoulders. He let out a bitter laugh and threw down his gun.
They didn't even have a chance to fight back.
---
At the same moment, Lucas's penthouse.
"Report. All target funds have entered domestic preset accounts."
"'Tsunami' operation nodes fully activated. Final reroute in progress. Estimated three minutes until full-scale assault on Sharp Group stock price."
Lucas was the only one still seated in the room. He watched the data streams racing across the screen with the calm detachment of someone watching distant fireworks.
Time ticked away.
"Countdown. Ten, nine, eight…"
Just as the technician reached "three," Lucas spoke.
"Close the net."
The command was executed.
On the digital map, every green data stream representing Owen's capital turned blood red in an instant. The serpent poised to strike had its head severed, then frozen solid.
Thirty billion dollars—locked in the financial system like a flash-frozen river.
Not a single cent was getting out.
---
Owen didn't realize something was wrong until the third call went to voicemail.
First, the Noctule team's signal vanished three minutes after landing.
Then his fund manager's call cut off mid-sentence—shouting, a door crashing open, then silence.
On the screen in front of him, the capital curve for Operation Tsunami climbed to its peak, then flatlined without warning.
A flatline that meant death.
Owen hurled his crystal tumbler across the room. Glass and amber liquid exploded across the floor.
A trap.
The whole thing had been a trap.
Clarence's dead-eyed stare at the airport. Kate's perfectly timed intelligence leaks. The Sharp family's convincingly chaotic "internal war"…
Every scene flashed through his mind, assembling into a massive, frozen web.
And he—the arrogant fool who'd walked straight into it.
"Clarence… Lucas… Kate!"
He ground out their names through clenched teeth, eyes bloodshot.
He'd lost.
Lost everything.
"Boss!" Ace burst in, panic written all over his face. "All our overseas accounts are being frozen! Interpol just issued a red notice!"
Owen staggered, barely catching himself on the desk.
"Go!" he roared. "Destroy everything! We're leaving!"
Owen stumbled out of the room and ran toward the private jet waiting on the estate's rear helipad. If he could just get out of here, if he could just escape, he'd have a chance to rebuild.
He had one foot on the boarding stairs when his satellite phone rang.
An unfamiliar number. Domestic.
Owen answered, breathing hard.
Lucas's voice came through the line. "Mr. Kingsley, don't waste your energy."
"Your plane won't make it out of this country's airspace. Every account tied to you is frozen globally. I've blocked every exit you had."
"You have nowhere left to run."
In the distance, sirens wailed through the night, tearing through the rainforest's stillness.
Owen stood on the stairs, staring up at a sky he'd never cross again. All the strength drained from his body. He collapsed to his knees.
Trapped. Nowhere to go.
The sirens grew louder, finally shattering the estate's silence.
But when the authorities stormed in, all they found was cold, empty air and shattered crystal.
Owen disappeared.
---
Three floors beneath the estate, Owen crawled through a narrow tunnel barely wide enough for one person. He'd built this escape route over a decade ago, never thinking he'd actually need it.
The stench of wet earth and rotting vegetation filled his nostrils. He didn't care.
Only one thought remained in Owen's mind.
He'd lost.
A lifetime of caution, of calculated moves—and in the end, Lucas and a woman he'd raised himself had played him like a fool.
Owen's underground empire, built over half a lifetime.
Gone.
He emerged at the tunnel's end into dense rainforest.
Owen collapsed against a massive banyan tree, gasping for breath.
Laughter scraped out of his throat like sandpaper.
He had nothing left. What was there to fear?
Lucas. Juliana. Kate.
He'd carve those names into bullets and deliver them personally—straight into their bodies.