Chapter 230 He Is In The Building

Chapter 230 He Is In The Building
"The desk terminal lacks the processing speed for a brute-force data breach," I said. "I need the executive server room."

Sebastian nodded. He gripped his heavy handgun in his right hand. "Move."

Sebastian stood behind me. The heat from his body cut through the chill of the server room. His presence offered a grounding force. We shared a physical connection hours in the past, stripped of all rules. That connection hummed between us. It felt like a live wire of tension and trust.

"Find the frequency," Sebastian rumbled. His breath brushed the shell of my ear.

"They use rotating encryption keys," I replied. I typed lines of code to isolate the signal packets. "They bounce the transmission off dummy satellites. The decryption sequence requires time."

"We are losing millions in cargo."

"I care nothing about the cargo," I stated. I kept my eyes focused on the screen. "Concrete and steel hold zero value compared to your life. I will let the warehouses burn to keep you in this room."

Sebastian placed his hand on my shoulder. His fingers dug into the thick fabric of my dark sweater. The touch anchored my racing pulse.

"I possess the primary signal," I announced.

A stream of audio data populated the screen. I routed the sound through the console speakers.

Rough voices filled the cold room. Men shouting coordinates. Call signs. Location updates. They moved with terrifying precision.

I listened to the chatter. I tracked the data flow. The fighters possessed a central command node. A coordinator managing the logistics of their destruction.

"They fight for a paycheck," I said. "Victor cannot inspire loyalty. He relies on bank transfers."

I traced the origin of the encrypted network. I bypassed the dummy IP addresses. The digital trail led across the ocean. The Cayman Islands. A series of numbered offshore accounts.

Victor secured hidden funds before his prison sentence. He used a proxy to initiate the transfers. He promised these men a fortune to dismantle our business.

"I see the money," I said.

"Burn it," Sebastian commanded.

My fingers flew across the keys. I injected a fake ledger entry. I scrambled the account ownership data. I triggered a freeze on all outgoing transactions.

The balance on the screen read fifty million dollars.

I changed a single line of code.

The balance dropped to zero.

"The accounts are frozen," I told Sebastian. "The proxy cannot authorize a transfer. The bank locked the funds."

"The men do not know the situation," Sebastian noted.

"I will tell them."

I isolated the command frequency. I integrated my voice into their encrypted channel. I pressed the transmission key.

"This is Ramona Presley," I broadcasted the statement. My voice echoed over the radio waves. It cut through the gunfire and the tactical chatter. "Your employer is Victor Salazar. He promised you a lucrative payout for tonight."

The radio channel went silent. The men stopped communicating. They listened.

"Check your escrow accounts," I suggested. "Victor Salazar holds zero funds. I seized the Cayman Island accounts. The routing numbers are dead. Your employer possesses no money to pay for your services."

I paused. I let the realization sink into their minds.

"You are burning my city for free," I continued. "I suggest you cut your losses. If you remain on my property, you will die without a paycheck."

I cut the transmission.

I unmuted their channel. The silence held for five seconds.

A second later, the panic started.

"Command, verify escrow status," a team leader demanded.

"We have an error," a desperate voice replied. "The Cayman routing is dead. I cannot access the funds."

"Abort," the leader ordered. "We do not bleed for empty promises. Retreat. Evacuate the zones."

I watched the surveillance feeds on the secondary monitor.

The men at Pier forty-four stopped firing. They piled into their black vans. They fled from the docks. They left the cargo freighters intact.

Sebastian took a step toward me. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders. He pulled me flush against his chest. He buried his face in my neck.

"You stopped the destruction with a keyboard," Sebastian murmured against my skin. The rough gravel in his voice held a deep, possessive pride.

"I cut the purse strings," I replied. I leaned into his solid frame. "Hired guns hold zero loyalty to a cause. They worship the dollar."

"You saved our men."

"I saved our business."

He rotated my stool. He stood between my knees. He grabbed my hips. The chill of the server room offered a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

"We control the city," Sebastian said.

He lowered his head. He captured my mouth. The kiss tasted of raw relief and dominant heat. I wrapped my arms around his neck. I pulled him closer. The tension of the night funneled into physical desire. We survived the initial wave. We outsmarted the threat.

He slipped his hand under the hem of my dark sweater. His calloused fingers brushed the bare skin of my stomach. A jolt of electricity traveled down my spine.

He broke the kiss. He rested his forehead against mine.

"The night remains active," he stated. "Victor will realize his men deserted him. He will understand his money is gone."

"A desperate man is a dangerous man," Sebastian countered.

"He will try to escape the state," I guessed.

A loud, deep vibration shook the floorboards beneath our feet.

The entire skyscraper shuddered.

The lights in the server room flickered. The hum of the massive cooling fans pitched higher. A mechanical scream filled the air.

My hands gripped the edge of the metal console. The tremor lasted for three seconds. It felt like an earthquake.

"What was that?" I asked.

Sebastian spun toward the doorway. He drew his handgun. The lethal tension returned to his spine.

The heavy radio on his belt shrieked with static.

"Boss!" Bob yelled through the speaker. The enforcer's voice carried pure, unadulterated chaos. Gunfire erupted in the background. A deafening roar of automatic weapons consumed the audio.

"Report!" Sebastian barked.

"The lobby!" Bob shouted. "An armored transport vehicle rammed through the front glass doors! It destroyed the security desk! They breached the ground floor!"

My blood ran cold.

Victor did not run. He did not retreat. He abandoned the city locations. He took his remaining kill-squad. He brought the violence to our front door.

He brought the violence to the tower.

"How many?" Sebastian demanded.

"A dozen men!" Bob replied. The sound of shattered glass echoed over the connection. "Heavy body armor! Suppressed rifles! They are pushing toward the elevator banks!"

"Hold the line," Sebastian ordered. "Do not let them reach the stairwells."

Sebastian cut the transmission. He looked at me. The gray storm in his eyes turned black. The predator prepared for a slaughter.

The emergency alarms in the server room triggered. Red lights bathed the dark metal racks in a frantic, strobing glow.

A mechanical voice blared from the overhead speakers.

Intruder alert. Ground level breach. Initiating lockdown protocols. "Victor wants to die tonight," Sebastian stated. His voice sounded like grinding stones.