Chapter 27
Markov gasped for air, pushing himself up against the carved mahogany desk. His arrogant facade was entirely shattered, replaced by the sheer, unadulterated terror of a man who realized he had walked willingly into his own grave.
"You cannot kill me, Ashbourne!" Markov choked out, spitting blood onto the rug. "My syndicate in Moscow will retaliate! They will burn your ports!"
"Will they retaliate?" Kieran asked, tilting his head with dangerous curiosity. The loose strands of dark hair fell over his forehead, contrasting violently with his cold, unblinking eyes. "Or will they thank me for eliminating a foolish liability who exposed their offshore routing numbers on a federal server?"
Markov froze. "What?"
"My cyber division intercepted your encrypted communications the moment you RSVP'd to my wife's gala," Kieran explained smoothly, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. "I already possess your bank accounts, Viktor. The money is gone. You are bankrupt."
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Markov let out a ragged, humiliated sob. He had tried to exploit a perceived weakness and had been systematically dismantled by an intellect vastly superior to his own.
"You have two choices," Kieran stated, stepping closer. "You sign a full, legitimate transfer of your American real estate to Annie’s foundation as a documented philanthropic gift. Or my men will carry you out of this room in pieces."
