FROM RAGS TO THE THRONE

Chapter Five – The First Shot

Adrian didn’t listen. He crossed the room in three long strides and yanked open the blackout curtains covering the narrow side window. Outside, the alleyway’s puddles glimmered under a single flickering streetlight.

The black SUV Marcus had described idled at the far end of the block, its tinted windows swallowing the light, The driver’s door was open.

A man stood there, his silhouette rigid against the glow. He was holding something, but from this distance, Adrian couldn’t tell if it was a gun or a phone.

"Down!" Vivienne hissed. She grabbed his arm, pulling him just as another shot slammed into the wall where his head had been a second before. The glass behind them shattered in a spray of glittering shards, the noise a violent punctuation to the chaos.

Damien ducked behind the desk, cursing. "They’re not here to scare you, Kane. They’re here to kill you."

Adrian was already moving. He crouched low, scanning the room. "Back exit. Now."

Vivienne was at the filing cabinet, flipping a hidden latch that made one of the steel drawers swing outward. Behind it, a narrow service corridor gaped like a shadow’s mouth. "Through here," she said.

Damien hesitated. "You’re just going to leave your"

Another bullet tore through the wall, sending splinters of wood across the carpet. "Move!" Adrian barked.

The corridor was narrow, lined with peeling white paint and rusted pipes that ran overhead. Their footsteps echoed, too loud in the confined space. Vivienne led, Adrian close behind, and Damien bringing up the rear.

The emergency exit at the far end was locked from the inside with a heavy steel bolt. Adrian reached it first, sliding it free and shoving the door open. The smell of wet asphalt hit him, mixed with the faint reek of rotting garbage from a dumpster nearby.

Marcus was there, parked half on the curb, the Bentley’s rear door already open. His eyes flicked to the trio emerging from the corridor. "Get in!"

They didn’t need telling twice. Vivienne slipped in first, Damien next, and Adrian followed, slamming the door shut behind him.

The Bentley peeled away, tires screaming against the wet street. Behind them, the black SUV roared into motion, headlights cutting through the rain like twin blades.

Marcus kept his voice calm, but his knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "Two inside. Passenger’s armed. They’re staying back about three car lengths."

Adrian watched the SUV in the side mirror. His pulse was steady now, the shock replaced by cold calculation. Whoever was inside had made one mistake, they’d come after him openly.

That meant they were willing to risk being seen. Which meant they were desperate. "Where to?" Marcus asked.

"Warehouse," Adrian said.

Damien scoffed. "You’ve got a warehouse?"

Adrian didn’t answer. He kept his gaze on the mirror. The SUV hadn’t closed the gap, but it hadn’t fallen back either. Its presence was deliberate, like a wolf pacing the edge of a campfire.

Vivienne’s hands were clasped tightly in her lap. Her eyes were fixed on the blur of neon-lit streets outside. "It’s Vargas," she said finally. "It has to be."

Adrian glanced at her. "If it is, he’s getting bold."

"Bolder than you think," Damien said. "Vargas doesn’t usually take the shot himself. He sends people who won’t talk if they’re caught. If we’re seeing his hand this clearly… he’s running out of patience."

"Or time," Adrian said.

The Bentley turned sharply down an industrial road. The city’s glossy façade fell away, replaced by silent warehouses and chain-link fences topped with rusted barbed wire. Streetlamps were few and far between, their pools of light revealing more darkness than they dispelled.

Marcus eased the car toward a nondescript metal building with a faded delivery company logo still faintly visible on the side. The security gate rolled back at their approach, operated by a guard Adrian trusted enough not to look twice.

Inside, the warehouse smelled faintly of motor oil and cold steel. The sound of the gate closing behind them was a satisfying finality, like a lock clicking shut.

In the center of the floor sat a matte-black SUV, identical to the one tailing them. Adrian’s own, Damien raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess, decoy?"

"Better," Adrian said. "Insurance."

He turned to Vivienne. "I want everything you have on Vargas. Names, addresses, contacts. If Selena’s working with him, I want proof before the night’s over."

Vivienne hesitated. "That’s going to require calls. And I don’t want to make them from here."

Adrian studied her for a moment. "Why?"

She didn’t look away. "Because if he’s tracking me, he already knows I’m with you. And that means he’s listening."

Marcus cleared his throat. "Sir… the SUV’s gone."

Adrian turned toward him sharply. "Gone?"

"Vanished," Marcus said. "One second it was behind us, the next it ducked off down a side street."

Damien leaned against a stack of crates. "He’s not chasing anymore. He’s setting the board."

Adrian moved to the corner of the warehouse where a small office overlooked the main floor. The walls here were bare concrete, the desk stripped of anything but a single secure phone. He picked it up, dialed a number from memory, and waited.

A man’s voice answered after one ring. "Kane."

"I want eyes on Vargas. Tonight," Adrian said.

The voice was calm. "You already have them."

Vivienne and Damien joined him in the office.

Damien folded his arms. "So what’s the play? We hole up here and wait for him to make the next move?"

Adrian shook his head. "No. We go to him."

Vivienne looked at him sharply. "That’s reckless. You don’t even know where he"

"I know exactly where he is," Adrian cut in. "The man likes control. That means he’s in his territory tonight. And if Selena’s with him, she’s about to find out she’s not the only one who can play this game."

The secure phone rang. Adrian picked it up. "It’s confirmed," the voice on the other end said. "Vargas is at The Glass Room. He’s not alone."

Adrian’s jaw tightened. "Who’s with him?"

There was a pause. "Your ex-wife."

They left the warehouse within minutes, the black SUV gliding through the city streets like a shadow. The Glass Room was one of Westbridge’s most exclusive lounges, a place where business deals blurred with illicit arrangements, and privacy was enforced not by contracts but by men with guns.

As they approached, Adrian could see the building’s tall glass façade glowing against the night. A line of luxury cars was parked out front.

Marcus slowed. "How do you want to play this?"

Adrian’s voice was steady. "Walk in. Like we own the place."

Inside, the lounge was all dark wood, velvet booths, and the faint scent of expensive cigars. Soft jazz floated through the air, and the low murmur of conversation filled the space.

At the far end, beneath a massive crystal chandelier, Leon Vargas sat in a semicircular booth. His scar was unmistakable. Selena sat beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm, her smile wide and confident.

Vargas saw Adrian first. The smile he gave was slow, deliberate, the kind of smile that promised nothing good.

Selena’s gaze followed his, and when she saw Adrian standing there, her expression didn’t falter. Instead, it sharpened, like she’d been expecting him.

"Adrian," she said, her voice cutting through the room. "I was hoping you’d come."

Vargas gestured to the empty seat across from him. "Sit," he said. "We were just discussing your future."