Page 12 of The Debt

“Just because Atlanta is our base doesn’t automatically limit our influence to the city’s boundaries. We can spread as far as we want to. Go find this little piece of shit and bring him to me. It’s time we meet face to face. He needs to understand what happens when push comes to shove.”

“That might be easier said than done, Boss.” Skull shifted uncomfortably. “No one knows the man’s real name, where he lives, or what he even looks like. He’s only known as The Dark One. He’s a ghost.”

Gregor’s eyes narrowed with a malevolent stare. “Am I hearing excuses from you, Skull?” The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. “There is always someone who knows. His underboss, his best friend... I’m paying a fortune for our hacking and IT team. It’s time they prove they are worth the money I pay them and dig into the dark web. No one can be a ghost in every aspect. Somewhere, a face must be linked to the moniker.”

He stalked to the bar and poured another drink. When he turned back, his eyes glimmered with promised violence.

“No one goes off shift until they find me The Dark One.”

“Of course, Boss.”

The look in Gregor’s eyes was unmistakable. It was the same one he had worn before ordering the massacre of prominent members of the Colombian cartel who had tried to muscle in on their territory five years ago.

The Dark One, whoever he was, had sealed his fate and just became mortal enemy number one.

Chapter Seven

Jarek

The penthouse apartment, Four Seasons Private Residences…

“Do you think it was wise to send Polov that message, Jarek?” Declan watched the captured reflection in the large window, mimicking his every move.

Jarek settled on the sofa. The leather creaked beneath him as he stretched his long legs. A faint smile played at the corners of his mouth as he watched his friend’s agitation.

“Ever heard of strategic manipulation, Declan?”

“I know what it means, but enlighten me on how poking a rabid bear serves our purpose.” Declan stopped his pacing to face Jarek directly.

“Think about it,” Jarek leaned forward. His dark eyes gleamed with intelligence. “First, we cut off his primary money laundering channel through Boston Finance. Simmons folded exactly as I predicted—he’s too invested in his legitimate business to risk our kind of pressure. Then, instead of letting Polov waste time trying to figure out why Simmons suddenly developed a conscience, we tell him exactly who’s responsible.”

“By making yourself a target,” Declan pointed out.

Jarek’s smile widened. “By making The Dark One the focus. Right now, Polov is sitting in his Georgian mansion, burning with rage because some upstart Irish boss had the audacity to challenge him. He’ll be obsessed with finding me, with proving his dominance. And while he’s fixated on that…”

“He won’t see our next move coming,” Declan finished as realization dawned on his face. “You’re making him emotional and clouding his judgment.”

“Exactly. A man like Polov, who’s held power for so long? His pride is his weakness. By signing that message as‘The Dark One,’I’m not just taking credit; I’m deliberately mystifying myself. He’ll hate that he can’t put a face to his enemy. It’ll drive him crazy, make him rush, and as a result, he’ll make mistakes.”

“Meanwhile, we’re already three steps ahead in converting the other financial institutions in his network to form alliances with us.” Declan nodded slowly.

“The old guard like Polov, they’re used to ruling through fear and brute force. They don’t understand that true power in today’s world isn’t about who has the most guns or the biggest muscles.” Jarek walked to the kitchen and refilled his coffee cup. “It’s about who controls the money, who has the best information by mining data on a large scale, and most importantly… who can make their opponents dance to their tune without even realizing they’re being played.”

A smirk contorted Jarek’s face as he sipped the dark brew in front of the window. The setting sun cast his sharp features in dramatic shadows.

“You’re about to prove why you are my underboss, my friend.”

Declan leaned against the elaborate bar of black marble and brushed gold. His fingers absently traced the whiskey decanter as his brow drew into a confused line. “I don’t follow.”

“As of tomorrow, you’re in charge.” Tossed like river stones, Jarek’s words skipped across the room to settle at Declan’s feet.

“I’m what?” Declan’s hand froze as he prepared to pour himself a drink. The other shoe was about to drop.

Jarek slid from the window with the guile of a predator. His dark eyes swept back and forth to scan for an imaginary prey ready to bolt from behind a chair.

“The time has come for me to take an extended vacation, my friend.” He paused, letting his words hang in the air between them. The corner of his mouth lifted in a cold smile that never reached his eyes. “And Atlanta sounds like the perfect destination.”

The crystal decanter struck Declan’s glass with a sharp crack. His hand jerked at Jarek’s sudden announcement—not from clumsiness, but from genuine shock. The news blindsided him completely. Jarek had just thrown him into the deep end without warning. Declan struggled to keep his thoughts from drowning him as the implication of the responsibility he'd be carrying crashed over him in waves.

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