Chapter 9
Richard stood motionless in the center of the entrance hall, his hands resting casually inside his trouser pockets, the gold signet ring on his finger gleaming in the firelight.
"You're a long way from Manhattan, Julian," Richard said, his slow, measured baritone echoing through the timbered rafters. "I don't recall sending an invitation to a dog."
Julian laughed—a harsh, barking sound. He tapped his walking stick against the hardwood floor. "Your son sent the invitation, Richard. Signed, sealed, and delivered with the gate codes. He told me the old wolf was finally ready to be put out to pasture."
Julian’s eyes drifted to the floor, noticing Mark and Claudia cowering in the shadows with bruised faces and ruined clothes.
"Looks like you already started the party without me, Mark," Julian sneered. "What's the matter? Did Daddy not like the idea of early retirement?"
Mark did not answer. He hid his bloody face behind Claudia’s shoulder, terrified to look at either man.
"Mark isn't retiring me, Julian," Richard said softly, taking a single, unhurried step forward. "Mark is being evicted. And you have committed a fatal error by setting foot on this mountain."
Julian scoffed, motioning with his fingers to the four armed mercenaries behind him. "You think you're still in control, Richard? Look around you. I have twenty men surrounding this lodge. We have the access roads blocked. The local sheriff took a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit to stay in town until morning. You’re isolated."
"I am never isolated on my own land, Julian," Richard replied, a faint, devastating smile touching his lips.
Richard raised his right hand and snapped his fingers once.
From the second-floor mezzanine, the dark timber balconies, and the adjoining dining hall, eighteen high-intensity green laser sights snapped to life simultaneously.
Every single mercenary in the foyer was painted with multiple crimson and emerald dots—aimed at their chests, their throats, and the bridges of their noses.
From behind the stone pillars, Richard’s veteran capos stepped out, their heavy shotguns and automatic rifles locked onto the intruders.
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Julian Vance’s arrogant smile vanished. The color drained from his face as he realized that the four mercenaries he had brought into the room were completely outmatched, trapped in a fatal crossfire with nowhere to take cover.
"You see, Julian," Richard murmured, his voice velvety and devoid of fear, "Mark thought he was using you to overthrow me. But I’ve known about your communications for three weeks. I let you drive all the way up this mountain so I wouldn't have to hunt you down in New York."
