Michael stayed silent for a long moment, the keys clicking rhythmically against his palm.
He seemed to be weighing the value of a live asset against the satisfaction of a clean hit.
“Three files,” Michael finally said, holding up three fingers.
“And you come down here, hands where I can see them.”
The Vulture felt the sweat go cold on his neck.
He had his opening, but he was walking straight into the lion’s den.
But, Micheal had some hint of doubt, will he really keep his promise?
Well, it isn’t that easy to trust a hitman like him….
“I don’t trade in ghosts,” the Vulture called down, his voice hardening.
“Show me my men. All of them. If I don’t see them standing on their own two feet, the only thing you’re getting from me is a funeral service.”
Michael let out a short, dry whistle.
He gestured toward the darkened loading bay on the first floor.
And boom!
Slowly, the heavy steel door rolled up with a groan.
Two of Michael’s shooters stepped out first, followed by the Vulture’s team.
“You mother fuckers!!”.
Vulture bitterly growled.
They were bruised, their clothes torn and a zip ties on their waists, but they were alive, that was the most important thing.
They blinked against the streetlamp’s glare, looking up at their boss with a mixture of shame and desperation.
“There they are,” Michael said, pocketing the car keys.
“A bit scuffed, but intact. Now, unless you want to see how fast my men can draw on them, I suggest you start climbing down that fire escape.”
The Vulture looked at his men.
He saw the fear in the eyes of the youngest one, a kid he’d brought in only six months ago.
His pride burned, but his code was absolute, he never left his own behind.
He slung his rifle over his back—a gesture of temporary truce—and began the slow descent down the iron stairs at the back.
Each step felt like a surrender, the metal creaking under his weight.
When he reached the pavement, he stood ten feet from Michael.
“The men go first,” the Vulture said, his eyes locked on Michael’s.
“Give them a head start. Once their GPS pings my watch from three miles away, you get the first key.”
Michael tilted his head, a predatory smile playing on his lips.
“You’re in no position to set the radius, Vulture. But I’ll play along. One mile. Take it or leave it.”
The Vulture tightened his grip on his tactical watch.
“One mile,” he repeated, his voice a low, dangerous hum.
“Fine. But you should know… the Vulture doesn’t just watch from the heights. He prepares the ground.”
As Michael signaled his men to cut the zip-ties on the prisoners, the Vulture’s thumb surreptitiously pressed a sequence on the side of his watch.
It wasn’t a GPS tracker.
Six months ago, he had been the one to recommend this warehouse with Mr Epstein as a “safe site.” He had spent three nights here alone, installing more than just cameras, just incase he gets double crosed by Epstein.
“Keys,” the Vulture demanded, holding out a gloved hand.
Michael laughed, stepping closer.
“Once they’re a mile out, remember? Don’t get—”
Click…
The Vulture’s watch emitted a high-frequency burst.
Suddenly, the streetlamps in the alley exploded in a shower of sparks, and the electronic locks on the Vulture’s car—which Michael was leaning against—didn’t just unlock, they triggered the anti-theft pyrotechnics he’d custom-installed.
A blinding wall of white smoke and earsplitting sirens erupted from the vehicle, swallowing Michael and his men in a disorienting cloud.
“Run! To the secondary exit!” the Vulture roared to his men.
In the chaos, the Vulture didn’t flee toward the exit.
He lunged into the smoke toward Michael.
He didn’t want his car; he wanted the leverage Michael was holding.
Using the infrared display on his tactical goggles, he saw Michael’s silhouette coughing and reaching for a sidearm.
The Vulture slammed into him like a freight train, his fist connecting with Michael’s jaw before snatching the master remote for the warehouse’s internal shutters from Michael’s belt.
“The deal just changed,” the Vulture hissed into the smoke.
With a press of a button, the heavy steel shutters of the warehouse began to slam shut, sealing Michael’s shooters inside the building, separated from their leader in the alley.
And the two others, were choking in the smoke.
The Vulture didn’t give Michael a second to recover.
As the other man reached for his holstered sidearm, the Vulture’s hand clamped around Michael’s throat, slamming his head back against the car’s roof again and again.
“Do not move,” the Vulture hissed, keeping a firm grip on Michael while signaling his intent to use him as leverage.
The chaos inside the warehouse continued as the shutters remained sealed, isolating Michael from his team.
“You are making a mistake,” Michael strained to say.
Mark my words”
“That remains to be seen,” the Vulture retorted.
He maneuvered Michael towards the other side of the vehicle, keeping him positioned as a physical shield.
With a quick movement, he forced Michael into the driver’s seat and positioned himself in the back, ensuring he maintained control of the situation.
“Start the car and drive,” the Vulture commanded.
“Stay away from the main roads. Any sign of pursuit will result in immediate consequences for you.”
As the vehicle sped away from the scene, the Vulture monitored the surroundings closely.
He had successfully extracted himself from the trap, but the situation remained volatile.
The person behind the ambush was still at large, and the Vulture needed to determine his next move carefully.
The Vulture kept his rifle barrel pressed firmly into the base of Michael’s skull as they sped through the backstreets.
With his free hand, he pulled a burner phone from a hidden compartment in the car’s upholstery.
He dialed a number that didn’t exist on any official registry.
The line picked up on the first ring.
Silence greeted him, heavy and expectant.
“A&D was a set-up, Isabella,” the Vulture growled, his eyes locked on Michael in the rearview mirror.
“Your ‘loyal’ men tried to flip me. They had someone watch over us..”
There was a long, chilling pause on the other end.
Then, Isabella’s voice came through, cold as a winter grave.
“Do you think it was me? If I wanted you dead, Vulture, I would play suck small tricks, you know that!!” She said.
Her voice sharpened.
” One more thing, I was given a choice betray you or go to prison,” he replied.
“She’s playing us against each other,” Eva hissed.
“If could scheme against the mighty vampire king just for revenge, what makes Isabella think that she can stop her?” He thought inwardly.
Michael then let out a low, bloody chuckle from the driver’s seat.
“You’re too late, Eva. She won’t stop untill she destroys you all..”
The Vulture felt the car swerve as Michael intentionally accelerated toward a crowded intersection.
“Vulture,” Isabella’s voice crackled through the phone.
“Kill him. Now. And dispose his body, I don’t want anymore risks.”