KING OF THE CONCRETE JUNGLE

Chapter Four — Blood in the Boardroom

The second hit from the battering ram cracked the wood of the boardroom doors, splinters spraying across the polished floor.

Ethan’s pulse thundered in his ears. The pistol in the velvet-lined case felt too heavy, too real, in his hands, Victor was already moving, pulling a sleek submachine gun from a hidden compartment under the table. He tossed a spare magazine toward Ethan.

“Safety’s here,” Victor said quickly, tapping the side of Ethan’s pistol. “Point and shoot. If you hesitate, you die. Simple.”

The Chairman hadn’t moved from his seat at the head of the table. His ring kept tapping the wood in a steady rhythm, as if counting down to something.

A third crash, the doors buckled inward. “Positions!” Victor barked.

Two guards in black tactical gear flanked the doorway, weapons ready. Ethan stood awkwardly near the far wall, every nerve screaming at him to run, but there was nowhere to go.

The final hit sent the doors flying open, Four masked men in dark combat armor poured into the room, rifles up, moving in coordinated formation.

“Down!” one of the guards shouted. Gunfire erupted, deafening, sharp bursts that turned the pristine boardroom into chaos. The smell of gunpowder mixed with the tang of fresh blood.

Ethan ducked behind a heavy leather chair, adrenaline burning through his veins. Bullets tore into the table inches from his head, splintering wood into his hair.

Victor moved like a machine, controlled bursts, each shot dropping one of the intruders. But there were more behind them, shadows moving in the smoke.

One of the masked men broke left, circling toward Ethan. Their eyes locked for a split second through the visor, and Ethan saw the intent there. This one was coming for him.

His grip on the pistol tightened. His finger found the trigger, The man raised his rifle, Ethan fired. The shot kicked hard in his hand. The masked man staggered, slammed into the glass wall, and slid to the floor, leaving a smear of blood on the polished surface.

For half a heartbeat, everything went silent in Ethan’s mind, shock, disbelief, and a dark, nauseating thrill all twisting together in his chest.

Then more gunfire snapped him back. “Cole, move!” Victor’s voice cut through the noise.

Ethan scrambled toward the long table, firing clumsily at another intruder as he moved. His shot missed, but it made the man duck, giving a guard time to drop him with a clean headshot.

Within thirty seconds, the last of the attackers lay on the floor. The marble gleamed red in the pools forming beneath them.

Ethan’s breathing was ragged. His hands shook as he lowered the pistol, Victor checked the bodies with quick, practiced motions. “Local. Not professionals,” he muttered. “Somebody bought them cheap.”

The Chairman finally rose from his chair, stepping over a fallen body like it was a spilled drink. “Sloppy,” he said. “Whoever sent them was sending a message, not a real threat.”

Ethan’s voice was hoarse. “A message? They tried to kill me.”

The Chairman’s gaze locked on him, cold, assessing. “They tried to scare you. The ones who’ll actually try to kill you… they won’t miss.”

Ethan swallowed hard, still gripping the pistol, Victor’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then his expression shifted, a flicker of something Ethan hadn’t seen before. Urgency.

“They found her,” Victor said quietly.

The Chairman’s eyes narrowed. “Already?”

Victor nodded. “And they’re moving her out of the city tonight.”

Ethan frowned. “Who?”

Victor turned to him. “Your sister.”

Ethan froze. “I don’t have a sister.”

Victor’s gaze was steady. “You do now. And if we don’t get to her first, she’ll be dead by morning.”