Chapter 4

"Liar. You ruined us!"

The heavy oak doors had barely closed when the screaming started outside.

No luxury suites. No security. Only mountains of debt left behind by their dead husbands. The Sisterhood fell apart in seconds. A younger woman lunged at Bianca, grabbing her hair and slamming her head hard against the stone wall.

"You promised us fifty million. You swore Scarlett would fold."

More hands reached in. Nails clawed at flesh. Silk scarves ripped away. They pinned Bianca down on the cold stones, kicking and punching.

"Back off, you cowards."

Bianca pulled a switchblade from her boot. She slashed the nearest woman's forearm open.

Blood hit the wall. The scream echoed down the hall.

Bianca scrambled to her feet, waving the bloody blade.

"Touch me again. Just try it. Fighting each other won't save you. We stick together or we die."

The women backed away, clutching open cuts. Fear and pure hatred filled their eyes.

I watched the brawl from the second-floor gallery. Then I turned and walked into my office, shutting the thick door behind me.

The screams cut off instantly.

My security chief walked up to my desk with an urgent report.

"Boss. Twenty minutes ago, the southern cartel hit our eastern checkpoints. They rammed straight through with armored trucks. The council elders just called. They gave you until sunrise to clean this up. If you don't, they bring in outside arbitration."

Arbitration. An excuse to let wolves into our territory and carve up our assets.

I pulled a red bounty notice from my drawer. I wrote Bianca's name on the top line.

"Grand theft of South Port assets. Armed mutiny against the family. Put a three-million-dollar bounty on her head on the black market. Bring her back alive." I tossed the sheet to my security chief.

Taking down Bianca was only the start.

Those women spent months walking in and out of the compound. They knew our patrol shifts and our guard changes by heart. As long as those leaks stayed open, rival crews would keep coming.

"Send in my tech lead," I ordered.

Thirty seconds later, my trusted hacker entered the room.

"Time for the counterplay," I said, leaning back. "First. Post every single expense from the trust onto the family network. The private doctors, the allowances, every luxury receipt. Let the soldiers on the street see who was actually bleeding them dry."

"Second. Write up a blood oath. Anyone who wants their husband's debt erased must cut their palm before my enforcers. They sign with their own blood. They give up names, proof, and everyone helping our enemies."

The hacker typed rapidly on an encrypted pad. He looked up. "And Bianca?"

"Third." I took a folder stamped with red top-secret seals and pulled out a single sheet. "Take this fake shift roster for the South Port armory. Leave it by the coffee machine in the break room."

The hacker smiled. "Fake rotations?"

"Every shift line has a hidden tracker. If anyone photos the sheet or sells it, my console gets their IP in two seconds. It flags the buyer and traces the offshore accounts they use to pay."

"Understood, Boss."

Ten minutes later, he slipped out of the room.

I stood by the reinforced glass, looking down at the driveway below. Guards loaded the sobbing widows onto transport trucks. The three grand in cash was all they had left. The rain washed the pink bloodstains off the asphalt.

The red phone on my desk rang.

My security chief picked it up. Two seconds later, his jaw went tight.

He put the call down and looked up.

"Boss. Our inside man confirms it. Bianca just sold the fake schedule to the south. Cash moved through her offshore channel. She threw in her dead husband's bomb schematics for free. She told them she'll burn South Port to the ground tonight just to put you in a casket."