Chapter 25 – The Last Safehouse
Sterling Voss paced inside his private bunker, the sound of his polished shoes clicking against the marble floor. The underground hideout had cost millions to build, a fortress buried beneath Gotham's oldest financial district.
Now, it felt like a tomb.
His network was collapsing. Banks had abandoned him. Offshore accounts were sealed. His men—men who once swore loyalty—were suddenly too busy to take his calls. Even the corrupt politicians he had financed for years had gone silent.
Voss took a slow breath, forcing himself to think. Panic was for fools. There was always a way out.
He turned to the center of the room, where a massive digital screen displayed the damage. Numbers falling. Stocks frozen. His empire dissolving in real-time. But one message stood out among the chaos.
[Secure Line Established – Incoming Call.]
His eyes narrowed. Only a handful of people had access to this line.
He pressed the command, and the screen changed. A darkened silhouette appeared, a distorted voice breaking the silence.
"You underestimated him, Sterling."
Voss exhaled sharply. "And you overestimated my patience."
The Broker.
A man without a face, a whisper in the world of finance and crime. He had been the secret architect behind Gotham's economic corruption for decades, managing silent deals between billionaires, crime lords, and even the Court of Owls. If money had power, the Broker was its ghost.
Voss straightened his tie. "Tell me you have a solution."
A pause. Then the distorted voice replied.
"I have an opportunity."
Voss listened.
"The feds will come for you soon. They already have your financials. But they don't have mine." The Broker's voice was calm, assured. "You can run, but you need a new name, a new fortune. I can provide both."
Voss leaned forward. "And the cost?"
Another pause.
"The remainder of your assets."
Voss clenched his jaw. "You want everything?"
The Broker chuckled. "You're not in a position to negotiate."
For the first time in his life, Sterling Voss felt cornered. Every instinct told him to fight, to push back. But he knew the truth. His empire was gone. The only thing left to protect was himself.
His hand hovered over the console.
Then, his screen flickered again.
A second incoming call.
[Unregistered Signal Detected – Source: Ibrahim Al-Farooq.]
Voss went still.
The bastard.
His finger trembled over the command. Accept or decline? If he declined, Ibrahim would just go public with whatever he had to say. But if he accepted…
Voss smirked.
He had spent his life outmaneuvering men like Ibrahim. If this was his last game, he would play it on his terms.
He accepted the call.
The screen shifted, revealing Ibrahim sitting in what appeared to be a private office, his expression unreadable. Voss noticed the faint glow of legal documents on the screen behind him—sealed indictments, frozen accounts, financial records tracing Voss's empire to its rotten core.
Ibrahim leaned forward.
"Your time's up, Voss."
Voss chuckled, shaking his head. "You're a brilliant man, Al-Farooq. But you made one mistake."
Ibrahim raised an eyebrow. "And what's that?"
Voss grinned, leaning into the screen.
"You think this ends with me."
Silence.
Then, alarms blared in Voss's bunker. His security feed flickered, red alerts flooding the interface.
[Unauthorized Breach Detected.]
[Security Lockdown Initiated.]
[Exit Routes Compromised.]
Ibrahim's eyes flickered, as if he was already ahead of it. "They're here for you, Voss."
Voss's grin remained, but his hands clenched into fists. "Who?"
A pause. Then, Ibrahim spoke the words that made his blood run cold.
"The Court of Owls."
The screen distorted. A shadow moved in the background of Voss's bunker. A whisper of fabric. A glint of steel.
The Broker's voice cut in, colder than before.
"Your assets are no longer required, Voss. The Court has decided your fate."
Voss turned sharply, reaching for the gun at his side.
Too late.
A blade flashed through the air.
Then—
Darkness.
To Be Continued…