Chapter 7
The hallway felt exceptionally long. The bright, cinematic natural light faded slightly as James moved deeper into the apartment, replaced by the shadows cast by the high walls. He held the brass key tightly in his fist.
Behind him, the bodyguards had secured the living room. One man stood over Ryan, zip-tying the unconscious man's wrists behind his back. The other two stood flanking Linda.
"Don't open it, James!" Linda screamed from the chair, her voice echoing off the pristine white walls. "I swear to you, if you open that door, you will ruin everything! The police will be here! We have security alarms!"
"Cut the main feed to the building's alarm system," James called back over his shoulder without breaking his stride.
"Already done, Boss," one of the men confirmed. "We jammed the signal before we entered the lobby."
James stopped in front of the door at the end of the hall. It was made of heavy, solid oak, entirely out of place among the modern, pastel decor of the rest of the apartment. There was no keyhole on the doorknob itself; instead, a heavy, deadbolt-style lock was installed high up on the wood.
"Dad, be careful," Emily called out from the bedroom, her voice tight with anxiety. "Ryan spent hours in there at night. He said he was trading stocks, but I heard him talking on the phone. Arguing with people."
"Who was he arguing with, Emily?" James asked, sliding the brass key into the heavy lock.
"I don't know," she cried softly. "He always spoke in another language. I think... I think it was Russian."
James froze. The key was halfway turned in the lock. His fair, rosy skin grew tense, the muscles in his jaw ticking. He was the head of the Bennett organization, and his primary rivals for the last decade had been the Volkov syndicate—a brutal faction operating out of Brighton Beach.
"Russian," James murmured, the pieces of a terrifying puzzle beginning to click together in his mind.
"Please, James!" Linda begged, thrashing against the bodyguards. Tears ruined her elegant makeup. "He only did it to pay off his debts! They were going to kill us! We had to give them something!"
"What did you give them, Linda?" James asked, finally turning the key. A heavy, metallic clank echoed in the hallway as the deadbolt disengaged.
"We didn't have a choice!" Linda sobbed hysterically. "They said if Ryan married her... if he got close to you... they would wipe the slate clean!"
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James pushed the heavy oak door open. The room was pitch black. He reached his hand out, feeling along the wall, and flicked the light switch.
Fluorescent lights buzzed to life, revealing a room that made the blood in James's veins turn to absolute ice.
