Chapter 21 - Dominic
Sebastien and I walked into the narrow alley, our footsteps echoing softly against the damp cobblestones. His grip was firm on the envelope that held the documents. Midway down the alley, I rapped my knuckles on the wooden door three times, slow, deliberate knocks that had become second nature. A small piece of the door slid open, and I caught the glint of eyes peering through the crack.
“Cipher to Obsidian,” I said, the code rolling off my tongue like it had so many times before.
The eyes behind the door blinked once, then the piece of wood slid back into place, followed by the unmistakable sound of a lock turning. The door creaked open slowly, reluctantly, as if it were unsure whether it was ready to welcome us.
We stepped inside, the musty air, thick with dust and stale coffee, hit me first. The hallway was dim, the walls lined with yellowed photographs and peeling wallpaper, remnants of a time when this place had been alive, a hub of whispered deals and unspoken power.
I moved forward, boots scraping against the worn floors, each step a reminder of how long this place had been abandoned—forgotten by most but never by me. The scent of old wood, leather, and something faintly metallic still clung to the air, like the last remnants of a life I no longer wanted to acknowledge.
At the entrance to the main area of the café, I stopped. The place was a ghost, frozen in time, though it refused to fade completely. The windows in the front were covered with yellowed newspaper, not to shield it from the outside world, but as a desperate attempt to hold on to something that had long since passed. It looked like a place that had been abandoned and left to fend for itself, like everything else in this city that had been discarded when it no longer served a purpose.
The chandelier above hung low, its once-glittering crystals dull and covered in a fine layer of dust, catching only the faintest light that managed to escape through the covered windows.
I glanced at the booths, each one now a shadow of its former self. The red leather seats, cracked and faded, had once been places where secrets were exchanged and promises made. Now, they felt like the remnants of forgotten battles, abandoned by those who had used them for their own gain. The wood of the tables, scarred with time, was chipped and dull, but even in its neglect, it held the memories of deals done in silence.
Sebastien moved across the room, his footsteps loud in the empty space, and sat down in one of the booths. I sat opposite him, my expression cold. No need for pleasantries. My message was simple: Stay the hell away from my family. The past doesn’t get to resurface without consequences. And Obsidian? He was about to learn that lesson the hard way.
Sebastien and I sat in silence for five minutes. Despite the place’s age, I knew better than to let my guard down. In environments like this, it was best to say only what was necessary, no more, no less, just in case the walls themselves were wired.
Then, Harry Montague, also known as Obsidian, stepped into the room, his trademark smile spreading across his face like it always did when he was in control. Harry Montague had once been a state judge, a man with the power to lock people away or set them free with the stroke of a pen. And in the Syndicate, his influence had only grown, his legal authority blending seamlessly into the organization’s criminal empire. He was a man who wielded power, both in the courtroom and on the streets, and I knew all too well how dangerous that combination could be.
But that didn’t matter to me. Power was something I could match. In fact, I had a few secrets of my own that would take him down a few notches. He needed to understand, this wasn’t some reunion where he could toy with me. I was here on my terms, and I’d make sure he learned that before the conversation was over.
Harry's voice was light, almost jovial, as he strode toward us, his hand outstretched in what seemed like a rehearsed gesture of camaraderie.
Sebastien and I rose, exchanging a brief glance before we shook his hand. His grip was firm, his handshake hearty, as if we were long-lost friends. I didn’t return the enthusiasm.
“Cipher, it’s a pleasure to reconnect after all these years,” he said with a smile that stretched wider than necessary. “You’ve done quite good for yourself. Please, sit.”
Harry settled into the booth, his posture relaxed.
“Would you like something to eat, a drink, perhaps?” he asked, clearly trying to offer some semblance of hospitality.
I didn’t respond immediately. Something in the air felt off, out of sync. I wasn’t here for pleasantries.
“Obsidian,” I said, my tone sharpening, eyes narrowing. “Let me get right to why I’m here.”
His smile faltered for a split second as my words landed.
“Someone from the Syndicate is threatening to expose my ties to it,” I continued, my voice cold and controlled. “I don’t appreciate breaches of contract, Obsidian.”
I leaned forward just slightly, my gaze cutting through the distance between us. "And if you don’t tell the other key players to back off, I have a long list of criminal offenses and secrets that I’m more than willing to hand over to the Syndicate’s biggest rival."
Harry’s face froze, the smile slipping further away as my words sank in.
“I’ve found your hidden accounts, Obsidian, the ones you and the others thought were impenetrable. The international banks, the employees you've been using as your pawns—everything. I have the paper trail, the encrypted communications.”
Sebastien slid a copy of the documents across the table to Obsidian. Yet, Obsidian didn’t touch it, his gaze fixed intently on me.
“If word gets out, it’s not just local charges you’ll face. It’s a domino effect sweeping across multiple jurisdictions. You’ll be exposed—not only here but across borders. Interpol will have a field day.” I let that hang in the air, my gaze unwavering.
“And that’s just the beginning,” I added, keeping my voice even. “I’ve traced the money. The trails run deep through various governments, financial systems, and dirty deals. Expose them, and we’re talking about the collapse of entire economies, Obsidian. Countries in turmoil. Billions lost.”
I could see him shift, a small crack in his composure. The room suddenly felt colder, darker.
“Shall I continue?” I asked, my eyes locked on his. “Or is that enough to make you understand that I’m not here to play games?”
There was no more room for misunderstandings. Harry needed to understand exactly who he was dealing with. I wasn’t here for a negotiation. I was here to send a message.
Harry’s expression shifted, the friendly facade slipping away, replaced by a cold, dangerous stare. His lips twitched, not quite a smile, but a thin line of something darker. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing.
“I don’t appreciate your tone, Cipher,” Harry said, his voice now stripped of warmth, every word laced with quiet menace. “No matter how powerful or loaded you are now, you should know one thing, if you target us, you won’t even see us coming. Understand?” His gaze remained hard, drilling into me like a threat hanging in the air.
I stayed calm, not reacting to his hostility, but my mind raced. I had thought I’d come here to confront them, but instead, Harry was acting as though I was the one being unreasonable. His icy response was a curveball I hadn’t anticipated.
“You’ve got it wrong, Obsidian,” I said, keeping my voice steady despite the tension that had thickened the air. “I’m not the one playing games here, but I’ll end it all if I have to.”
He leaned back in the booth, folding his arms, and let out a low, mocking laugh that echoed off the walls. It was the kind of laugh that made it clear he thought I was out of my depth.
“You think you have what it takes to end the Syndicate?” he chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You think that you can play with us like this and walk away like nothing happened? Cipher , you have no idea what you're dealing with.” His voice dropped lower, taking on a tone that was both condescending and dangerous.
His laughter cut off abruptly, and his gaze turned icy as he leaned forward, eyes locking onto mine with a ferocity that made the air around us feel like it was charged with static.
“I’ve been a key player in this operation for years, years , and you think you can just waltz in and talk to me like this?” He shook his head slowly, still smiling that cold, dismissive smile. “You don’t know who you’re messing with. You think your family and your little empire can stand against the Syndicate?” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “Let me tell you something, Cipher . We don’t just have money. We have power, resources, connections that go deeper than you can even imagine. The people behind this organization—they own the streets, the governments, the systems that control your world. And you’re just a fly in the web.”
Harry stood then, brushing off his suit like he was preparing to move on from the conversation as though I were beneath him. His posture was a clear statement of superiority, as though the whole conversation had been a game to him.
“Now, let me make myself clear,” he continued, voice hardening with each word. “You’re out of your league, and I don’t think you want to find out just how deep we run. If you don’t back off, you’ll learn the hard way how dangerous it is to bite the hand that feeds. I’m done here. And I suggest you leave before you regret this little meeting.”
He turned his back to us, leaving the envelope on the table and moving toward the door. I felt the blood rush to my face. Something didn’t add up here. If they were the ones behind the threats, why was Obsidian acting as though I was the aggressor in this whole situation? Why was he acting like I had come to attack them?
I had come here with one goal—getting answers—but all I had was more questions. The conversation leaving me more confused than when I had entered.
If they were behind the threats… why didn’t he act like it?
I ran my fingers through my hair, a knot of frustration tightening in my chest. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Had someone else been playing both sides? Was this a power play I wasn’t seeing?
“Seb, let’s get out of here.”
Sebastien and I rose from the table, and together, we strode out of the café, retracing our steps through the narrow alleyway we had passed on our way in.
Outside, the brisk air hit us, clearing the staleness of the café from my lungs. Sebastien unlocked the car with a swift press of his key fob, and I slid into the passenger seat while he took the wheel.
The doors shut with a heavy thud, sealing us in. Seb’s hands gripped the wheel, his jaw tight as he glanced at me. “So? What’s the next move?”
“We go back to the drawing board,” I said, my voice flat. “Craig and the others need to dig deeper. There’s something here we’re missing. There has to be.”
I reached into my pocket, withdrawing my phone, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat building inside me. The screen lit up with a cluster of missed calls. Donovan. Again and again. I hit redial, my jaw clenched as the line connected almost instantly.
“Donovan, what do you have for me?” I demanded, ready for the usual debrief.
His reply came tight and strained. “Mr. Quantum, Mrs. Quantum and Lucy have been abducted.”
For a second, the air seemed to leave the car. Then it hit me like a wrecking ball. My chest tightened, my vision narrowing as rage boiled over.
“FUCK!” I roared, slamming my fist into the dashboard with a force that made the entire car shudder.
Sebastien’s gaze snapped to me, his green eyes intense, his voice laced with tension. “What the hell happened, Dom?”
“They took Emily and Lucy,” I growled, the words barely escaping through clenched teeth. “Some bastard out there has my wife and daughter.”
Sebastien started the car, his knuckles tightened against the wheel. “Then we find them, Dom. And whoever’s behind this?” He exhaled, a grim smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “They’ll wish they’d never been born.”
In that moment, there was no fear, no hesitation. Only vengeance, savage and unrestrained, as we prepared to unleash hell.