Chapter 4
The man in black sat perfectly still.
Andrew could feel the weight of his gaze like a physical thing. Pressing down on him. Suffocating him.
He tried to move his hands.
Nothing.
Tried to scream.
Nothing.
It was as if his body had simply decided to stop taking orders from his brain.
The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black device. No bigger than a thumb drive. He set it on the desk between them.
“You’re probably wondering how we got in,” the man said. “How we knew about Sarah. About the sheriff. About the gun you planted in Mr. Mercer’s basement.”
He tapped the device.
“This is why. Sentinel Dynamics sells these to the federal government for twelve thousand dollars apiece. You told your investors they were unhackable. Undetectable. The future of counter-surveillance.”
He smiled.
“We cracked the firmware in nine minutes. Your entire network—your home, your office, your car, Sarah’s condo—has been ours since 2:17 this afternoon. We see everything. We hear everything. We know you better than you know yourself.”
Andrew finally found his voice. It came out as a ragged whisper.
“Who are you?”
“Names don't matter. You can call me Wolf. That’s what the Colonel calls us. Wolf. Hawk. Bear. Viper. Animal names. He says we’re predators. That the world needs predators to keep the monsters in line.”
Wolf leaned back in the chair.
“You see, Mr. Prescott, most men have lines they won't cross. Things they won't do to win. Not us. We crossed all those lines a long time ago. In places you’ve only read about in newspapers. We did things that would make you vomit just hearing them described. And we did them for men like the Colonel. Men who earned our loyalty with blood.”
He tapped the desk lightly.
“You hit his daughter. You put her in a hospital. You threatened to take her children. And in doing so... you declared war on every single one of us.”
Andrew’s mind raced.
He needed to buy time.
“Money,” he croaked. “I can pay you. Whatever the Colonel is paying, I’ll double it. Triple. Name your price.”
Wolf actually laughed. It was a genuine sound. Amused.
“Mr. Prescott. You think this is about money? The Colonel doesn't pay us. We don't work for money. We work because there are men in this world who need to be stopped. Men who think their money and their names and their little empires make them untouchable. Men like you.”
He stood and walked around the desk.
“Let me show you something.”
He touched Andrew’s shoulder.
Instantly, Andrew could move again.
He gasped, sucking in great lungfuls of air, his body trembling. He tried to stand, to run, but Wolf’s hand pressed down gently and he found himself frozen once more.
“Easy,” Wolf said. “We’re just going to watch a movie. You love movies, don't you? You watch them in your private theater every Sunday night. Popcorn. Champagne. Sarah on your arm. While Emma ate dinner alone with the children.”
He picked up the remote for Andrew’s desk monitor and pressed a button.
The screen came to life.
Andrew watched.
And died inside.
It was footage from today.
From his own security cameras.
The ones the sheriff had told him were completely wiped.
There he was.
Shouting at Emma.
Backhanding her so hard she spun.
Grabbing her by the throat and slamming her into the wall.
Kicking her when she fell.
Over and over and over.
The sound was crystal clear.
His voice.
Her screams.
The wet, sickening sounds of his fists against her skin.
Then Daniel arriving.
Margaret complaining about the carpet.
Andrew himself, sneering about the sheriff and the prosecutors and the judge.
Saying no one could touch him.
The screen went black.
Wolf pressed another button.
New footage.
This time, it was from three years ago.
Emma was pregnant with Lily.
Andrew was drunk.
He pushed her down the stairs.
She lay at the bottom, bleeding, begging him to call an ambulance.
He stood over her for ten full minutes before he finally picked up the phone.
Another button.
Two years ago.
Jacob had spilled juice on Andrew’s new suit.
Andrew backhanded the seven-year-old so hard the boy flew across the kitchen.
Emma had tried to intervene.
Andrew had beaten her unconscious while Jacob watched, screaming.
Another button.
Another.
Another.
Six years of hell.
Six years of violence.
Six years of Andrew Prescott being exactly the monster Daniel Mercer knew he was.
The screen went dark again.
Wolf set the remote down.
“We have four hundred and seventeen separate incidents on file,” he said quietly. “Not counting the ones you did where there were no cameras. The ones in hotel rooms. In the car. On your private jet. We’re still digging those up.”
He looked at Andrew.
“The question isn't whether we can destroy you, Mr. Prescott. We already have. The question is... what do we do with you now?”
Andrew’s mind was shattering.
These tapes. If they got out...
Everything was gone.
The business. The reputation. The children.
He would go to prison. For a long time.
Men like him didn't survive in prison.
They didn't last a week.
“What do you want?” he whispered.
Wolf sat back down.
“Here’s the deal. You’re going to sign over full custody of Jacob and Lily to Emma. Effective immediately. No fight. No delays. No lawyers trying to ‘work something out.’ They go to their mother today. And you never see them again without her explicit, written permission.”
Andrew nodded frantically.
“Yes. Yes, anything. The kids. You can have them.”
“You’re going to sign over the Belle Meade house. All the cars. The jewelry. Everything Emma is legally entitled to under the prenup you had her sign when she was twenty-two and stupid with love. Plus an additional twenty million dollars in punitive damages. Paid into a trust in her name. Irrevocable. No loopholes.”
“Yes. Yes. All of it.”
“You’re going to resign from Sentinel Dynamics. Effective immediately. You’re going to sell your shares at ten cents on the dollar to a holding company we control. You’re going to sign a full confession admitting to six years of domestic abuse, fraud against the federal government, and conspiracy to pervert the course of justice. And you’re going to turn state’s evidence against everyone who helped you. The sheriff. the prosecutors. the judge. Your own mother.”
Andrew hesitated.
This was too much.
If he did all this... he would have nothing.
Less than nothing.
He would be a pariah.
A criminal.
Wolf’s eyes hardened.
“Or,” he said softly, “we release every single one of those tapes. To every news outlet in the country. To every business partner. To every friend you think you have. We post them on every social media platform known to man. We make sure your face is the first thing that comes up when anyone searches the words ‘wife beater’ for the next hundred years.”
He leaned forward.
“And then... we make sure you spend the rest of your natural life in a maximum-security prison. In general population. And we make sure every single man in there knows exactly who you are and exactly what you did. Do you understand what happens to men like you in places like that, Mr. Prescott?”
Andrew understood perfectly.
He had seen enough movies.
Read enough news stories.
Men who hurt women and children didn't last long behind bars.
And if Wolf and his men were really as powerful as they seemed... they would make sure he lasted just long enough to regret every single thing he had ever done.
“I’ll sign,” he said. The words came out broken. Humiliated. “I’ll sign everything.”
Wolf nodded.
“Good man. I knew you’d see reason.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick stack of papers. He set them on the desk along with a pen.
“Everything you need is right here. Read them if you want. I’ll wait. But I should tell you—every word has been checked by three different attorneys. None of them work for you. None of them can be bought. There are no loopholes. No escape clauses. You sign... or you burn.”
Andrew stared at the papers.
His entire life.
Everything he had built.
Everything his father and grandfather had built before him.
Gone.
Just like that.
Because he had hit the wrong woman’s daughter.
He picked up the pen.
His hand was shaking so badly he could barely hold it.
He signed the first page.
Then the next.
And the next.
Page after page.
Surrender after surrender.
When he finished, Wolf collected the papers and tucked them into an inside pocket.
“Excellent,” he said. “Now, there’s one more thing.”
Andrew looked up, hope flaring in his chest. Maybe there was a way out. Maybe—
“You’re going to call the sheriff,” Wolf said. “Right now. You’re going to tell him you’ve had a change of heart. That you’re not going to press charges against Daniel Mercer. That you want the whole thing forgotten. And you’re going to tell him to destroy the gun he was supposed to plant. Because if Daniel Mercer is arrested for any reason in the next forty-eight hours... the tapes go live. Do you understand?”
Andrew nodded.
“I understand.”
Wolf slid the phone across the desk.
“Call him. And remember—I’m listening. Every word.”
Andrew dialed.
The sheriff answered on the first ring.
“Andrew? Jesus, I’ve been trying to reach you. What the hell happened at your place? My guys saw the lights go out and—”
“Tom,” Andrew said. His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “Tom. Listen to me. The Mercer thing... it’s off.”
“Off? What do you mean off? I’ve got two hours until my guys go in there with a warrant. We’ve got the gun planted. We’ve got the witnesses. This is a slam dunk.”
“Call it off,” Andrew said. He could feel Wolf’s eyes on him. Heavy. Judging. “I don't want to do this anymore.”
“Have you lost your mind? This is our best chance to take that old bastard off the board permanently. Without him, Emma folds in a week. You get the kids. You get everything.”
“I said call it off, Tom!” Andrew shouted. Panic was rising in his throat again. “If you so much as knock on Daniel Mercer’s door, I swear to God I’ll burn everything down. I’ll tell them everything. About the contracts. About the kickbacks. About the girl who died at your lake house three years ago. I’ll take you down with me. Do you understand me?”
Silence on the other end.
Long.
Heavy.
“Andrew,” the sheriff said slowly. “Is someone there with you right now?”
Andrew looked at Wolf.
Wolf smiled and nodded.
“Yes,” Andrew said. “Someone is here. And he’s listening to every word. So you do exactly what I say. You call off the raid. You destroy the gun. And you forget you ever heard the name Daniel Mercer. Or I swear to God, Tom... I’ll end you.”
He ended the call.
He dropped the phone like it was on fire.
Wolf stood.
“Not bad, Mr. Prescott. A little dramatic, but effective.”
He walked to the door.
“Wait,” Andrew said. “That’s it? I signed everything. I called off the sheriff. You’re just going to leave?”
Wolf turned.
“Oh, we’re not leaving, Mr. Prescott. We’re never leaving. Not really. For the rest of your life, you’re going to feel us. In the walls. In the silence. In the middle of the night when you wake up sweating and you can’t remember why. You’re going to spend every single day wondering if today is the day we decide you haven't suffered enough.”
He opened the door.
“You get to live, Mr. Prescott. But you’re going to live in a world where you have nothing. No money. No power. No friends. No family. Just you and the things you’ve done. And trust me... that’s a punishment far worse than anything we could do to you with our bare hands.”
He stepped into the hallway.
“One more thing. If you ever try to contact Emma. Or the children. Or Daniel Mercer. If you even speak their names out loud to anyone... the tapes go live. And then we come back. And next time... we won't be here to negotiate.”
He was gone.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Andrew sat in the darkness.
Alone.
The lights came back on.
The air conditioning hummed to life.
The house was exactly as it had been.
But everything was different.
He looked at the empty chair across from his desk.
At the spot where Wolf had sat.
He had been so certain he was the predator.
The king of Nashville.
Untouchable.
He had been wrong.
So devastatingly wrong.
Somewhere in the house, a floorboard creaked.
Andrew jumped, his heart hammering.
Nothing there.
Just his imagination.
Wasn't it?
He stood on legs that felt like water and stumbled to the liquor cabinet. His hands shook so badly he could barely pour.
He had to get out.
He had to leave the country.
Start over somewhere.
Somewhere Daniel Mercer and his monsters couldn't find him.
He ran to the safe in the wall. Spun the combination. Threw the door open.
Empty.
The passports.
The cash.
The diamonds.
Gone.
All gone.
A single sheet of paper sat on the empty metal shelf.
Typed.
Same font.
Same cold, black letters.
May you like
NOT SO FAST.
Andrew screamed.
