Chapter 2: The Precision of the Watch
Elias didn't respond with words. He didn't tighten his fists or posture like a brawler. Instead, he unclasped the heavy, gold Patek Philippe watch from his wrist. He laid it down on the marble counter with lethal, rhythmic precision.
Click.
It was a small sound, but it caught Arthur’s attention. He watched, amused, as Elias aligned the watch perfectly with the edge of the granite.
"Thinking of pawning it, old man?" Arthur sneered. "It’s not enough to cover the damage to my floor."
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Arthur was completely blinded by his toxic ego. He felt safe behind his bulletproof glass, surrounded by his private security detail, all of whom were currently in the lobby, waiting for his signal. He didn't notice the faint, rhythmic pulse emanating from the watch, nor did he understand that the device wasn't a timepiece—it was a high-frequency acoustic beacon, a ghost-signal that had just pinged a tactical response team currently hovering in an unmarked stealth transport three blocks away.
"You should have kept your hands off her, Arthur," Elias said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You treat people like assets. You forget that assets can be liquidated."
