Chapter 22
Julian Vance scrambled desperately away from his massive oak desk, drawing a gold-plated sidearm. The cinematic, bright lighting of the penthouse illuminated his terrified, sweating face. He looked up, his eyes widening in absolute horror as he saw the towering, deeply masculine figure of Ethan Blackwell standing in the doorway. "Blackwell!" Julian gasped, his fair skin draining of color. "You can't be here! My security—" "Your security is dead," Ethan interrupted smoothly, his voice a freezing void. He walked slowly across the polished marble floor, his leather shoes crushing shattered glass. He did not seek cover. He stared down his high-bridged nose at the pathetic warlord. "You attempted to abduct my chief of staff. You threatened the stability of my empire." "We can negotiate!" Julian shrieked, backing away until he hit the floor-to-ceiling window. "I have billions in offshore accounts! I can double your syndicate's net worth!" "I do not negotiate," Ethan murmured, raising his suppressed sidearm with effortless, robotic precision. "I exterminate." He pulled the trigger. The flawless shot ended the Chicago threat instantly. Ethan turned his back on the body, smoothing his suit jacket. "Sanitize the room," he ordered.
