Chapter 5 : The Boardroom Execution
"You are out of your mind."
Killian stood in the center of the living room, fully dressed in black tactical gear, staring at the blueprints I had projected onto the wall monitor.
"It's the only way," I said, pointing to the schematic. "At noon today, the Whitmore Board of Directors is holding an emergency meeting to discuss the 'missing' Valesco funds I drained. They will be in the penthouse boardroom of the Whitmore Tower. All the servers are air-gapped during emergency sessions. Jax can't hack them from the outside. I have to physically plug a drive into the Chairman's terminal to dump the rest of their illicit data directly to the FBI and the SEC."
Killian crossed his arms. "And how exactly do you plan to get into a building swarming with cartel mercenaries looking for your head?"
I smiled. It was a cold, unfamiliar expression on my face, but it felt right. "Because they're looking for a terrified accountant hiding in the shadows. They aren't expecting me to walk through the front door."
Killian stared at me for a long time. The protective instinct in him was warring with the deep, undeniable respect he had for my intellect.
Finally, he exhaled sharply. "If we do this, we do it my way. I clear the path. You don't leave my sight. You don't heroically sacrifice yourself."
"Deal."
At 11:45 a.m., a black town car pulled up to the glass-fronted Whitmore Tower.
I stepped out. I wasn't wearing a terrified expression. I was wearing a blood-red blazer, severe black trousers, and sunglasses. I looked exactly like the executive I was born to be.
Beside me walked Killian. He wasn't hiding. He was wearing a tailored suit that hid the Kevlar underneath, walking with the terrifying, predatory grace of a man who owned the airspace he occupied.
We walked into the lobby. The security guards at the front desk looked up. One of them immediately reached for the radio on his shoulder.
Killian didn't even break stride. He smoothly withdrew a silenced pistol from his jacket and shot the radio cleanly off the man’s shoulder. The lobby erupted into screams, people hitting the marble floor.
"Keep walking," Killian told me calmly.
We stepped into the private executive elevator. I swiped my keycard—still active, because the board hadn't officially terminated me, needing me as the scapegoat. The doors closed, sealing us in.
"Nervous?" Killian asked, watching the numbers tick up.
"Terrified," I admitted. "But I'd rather die fighting than die hiding."
He reached out and squeezed my hand. "Nobody is dying today."
Ding.
Floor 60.
The doors opened. The executive floor was eerily quiet. The board meeting was in progress behind the heavy mahogany doors at the end of the hall. But between us and those doors stood six men. Valesco mercenaries. And standing in the center of them was Elena.
"I have to admit," Elena laughed, drawing her weapon. "I didn't think you were stupid enough to come back."
"Sloan," Killian said softly, not taking his eyes off Elena. "The boardroom is yours. These six are mine."
"Kill them all," Elena ordered.
The hallway exploded into chaos.
Killian moved like a force of nature. He ducked under the first line of fire, throwing a heavy silver blade that caught the nearest mercenary in the shoulder. He closed the distance, turning the hallway into a brutal, close-quarters warzone.
I didn't freeze. I dropped low, hugging the marble wall, sprinting toward the mahogany doors.
Elena saw me. She pivoted, raising her gun toward my head.
Bang.
I flinched, waiting for the pain. It never came.
Elena gasped, dropping her gun. She fell to her knees, a blossom of red spreading across her chest. Behind her stood Killian, his gun raised, eyes utterly dead as he fired the lethal shot.
The remaining mercenaries hesitated, their leader dead on the floor.
"Run," Killian told them quietly.
They ran.
I pushed open the heavy mahogany doors of the boardroom.
Twelve billionaires in custom suits froze, staring in horror as I walked in. The Chairman, Arthur Whitmore—the man who had recruited Killian and framed me—stood up, his face pale.
"Sloan," Arthur stammered. "What is the meaning of this?"
I didn't answer. I walked straight to his terminal at the head of the table. I pulled a silver flash drive from my pocket and jammed it into the USB port.
"Miss Hart, step away from that computer!" Arthur shouted, lunging forward.
A heavy hand clamped onto Arthur's shoulder, slamming him brutally back into his leather chair. Killian stood behind him, blood splattered across his cheek, looking like the grim reaper in a Tom Ford suit.
"Let the lady work, Arthur," Killian whispered.
I hit the execute command.
On the massive projector screen behind the table, a progress bar appeared.
TRANSFERRING DECRYPTED LEDGERS TO: FBI CYBER DIVISION, SEC ENFORCEMENT PROTOCOL.
20%... 50%... 100%. TRANSFER COMPLETE.
I pulled the drive out and looked around the table at the men who had planned to trade my life for their profit.
"The FBI will be here in approximately four minutes," I said, my voice ringing clear and authoritative in the silent room. "I suggest you all call your lawyers. Though with your assets currently frozen, I doubt you can afford them."
May you like
I turned to Killian. "I'm ready to go now."
He smiled. A real, genuine smile. "After you."
