"Strip the armor plating off the lead vehicles."​Chase gave the order from the head of the concrete table. Iron Tyrant frowned at the digital map projected on the bunker wall.​"Boss, that makes no sense," Iron Tyrant argued. "The Vanguard mercenaries will shred unarmored steel in seconds."​"That is the point," Chase replied smoothly. "Vincent Fang is hunting for a fortified billionaire. He expects a corporate motorcade. We will give him what he expects."​Bella stood next to the concrete table. "You want to send a decoy."​Chase nodded. "Assemble five black SUVs from the garage. Put weight dummies in the back seats. Use remote driving software to pilot the convoy."​Iron Tyrant understood the grim math immediately. "And the escort drivers?"​"Use the remote link for all of them," Chase commanded. "No Titanium personnel die in this diversion. Send the ghost fleet straight down Interstate Nine."​Iron Tyrant tapped his digital tablet. "Vincent has three heavy artillery teams dug into

"Do not swipe the corporate card."​Chase Lu grabbed Bella by the wrist. His grip was firm. He stopped her hand just as she reached into her jacket pocket.​They stood in the cramped lobby of a roadside motel. Rain lashed against the cracked glass of the front doors.​"We need a room," Bella whispered. She looked at the bearded clerk behind the plexiglass counter. "My cash reserves are low."​"Vincent Fang controls the regional banking grid," Chase explained in a low gravelly voice. "A credit transaction will ping the Capital Syndicate servers. It will broadcast our exact GPS coordinates to his Vanguard mercenaries."​Bella withdrew her empty hand. She understood the reality. The Titanium bank accounts held billions. But digital wealth was a lethal trap tonight.​She reached into her other pocket. She pulled out a small stack of crumpled twenty dollar bills. It was the change from a coffee run days ago.​She slid the cash under the scratched plexiglass slot.​"We need a room for the n

Master Hong laughed.​The deep guttural sound vibrated the banquet table. The warlord leaned back in his reinforced wooden chair. He did not look intimidated by the billionaire standing in his dining hall. He looked thoroughly amused.​"You threaten me on my own ship," Master Hong wheezed. He wiped a smear of melted butter from his thick chin. "You bring ten million dollars in a briefcase and demand my respect. You are arrogant."​Chase remained still. He tracked the movements of the ten armed enforcers standing behind the warlord. They gripped their automatic rifles tighter. They waited for a single nod to open fire.​"Vincent Fang pays me in gold," Master Hong continued. "He pays me to stall you. He pays me to watch you die."​The warlord reached for another massive red lobster on the silver platter. He cracked the thick shell with his bare hands.​"My spotters watch every street in South Lake City," Master Hong boasted. He tossed a chunk of white meat into his mouth. "They saw you

"Do you swear you can cure it?" Master Hong asked.​The fat warlord gripped the edge of the table. His pale face glistened with cold sweat. The arrogance was gone.​Chase opened his mouth to state his terms.​The cruise liner lurched hard.​A deafening explosion ripped through the hull of the ship. The shockwave shattered the dining hall windows. Saltwater and gray smoke poured into the room.​"Client zero," Ghost shouted over the encrypted earpiece. "Unknown hostiles are boarding from the starboard side. They are carrying heavy weapons."​"Vanguard?" Chase asked aloud over the blaring ship alarms.​"Negative," Ghost replied. "They are flying black flags. It is a local maritime raid."​Master Hong fell backward in his reinforced chair. His ten elite guards raised their rifles toward the shattered windows.​They did not fire at Chase. They fired at the dozen raiders swinging into the dining room on thick ropes.​The invaders wore rusted body armor and carried brutal close quarters weap