I Shared My Last Sandwich With a Nervous Stranger Before My Interview—Then He Walked In as the Mafia Boss Who Owned the Company. Nineteen minutes before the biggest job interview of my l -

Chapter 5 – THE COUNTDOWN IN THE WAREHOUSE

Jack didn’t raise his hands. He didn’t drop the watch.

He stepped smoothly in front of me, shielding my body with his broad shoulders.

“You’re not walking out of here, Silas,” Jack said, his voice echoing with absolute, terrifying authority.

Silas laughed, a dry, rasping sound. “You have no men, Jack. Your car is ash. Your empire belongs to me now.”

“I don’t need an army to kill a traitor,” Jack replied.

He reached into his jacket. But instead of a gun, he pulled out a small remote detonator.

Silas froze.

“Did you really think my father would bury the only proof of your treason without protecting it?” Jack asked coldly. “The floor panel we just opened was wired. This entire warehouse is rigged with C4.”

He pressed his thumb against the red button.

“Drop your weapons, or we all burn.”

Silas’s men nervously glanced at each other. They were paid to kill, not to die in a fireball.

“He’s bluffing!” Silas barked.

Jack didn’t hesitate. He tossed the gold pocket watch—the only proof of Silas’s treason—into the dark water of the harbor behind us.

It splashed and vanished.

“No!” Silas screamed, realizing his leverage was gone.

“Run, Emily!” Jack roared.

He shoved me toward the side exit and threw the detonator hard at Silas’s face.

It wasn’t a detonator. It was just a spare car key fob.

By the time Silas realized he’d been tricked, Jack had drawn his weapon and fired three rapid shots, taking down the lights.

The warehouse plunged into darkness.

We sprinted through the maze of shipping crates. Bullets chewed into the metal behind us.

We burst out a side door and scrambled into the delivery van. Jack floored it, tearing out of the shipyard as Silas’s men fired blindly into the night.

I slumped against the seat, shaking violently. “You threw the proof away.”

“I memorized the account numbers in the photo,” Jack said, his eyes fixed on the road. “But right now, I care more about keeping you alive.”

He looked at me, his hard expression softening.

“We need to find out who your mother was trying to reach in Chicago,” Jack said.

Before I could answer, my phone rang.

It was my little brother, Leo.

I answered it frantically. “Leo? Are you okay?”

“Emily,” a deep, chilling voice replied instead of my brother.

It wasn’t Silas.

“If you want to see the boy alive,” the voice said, “bring Jack Whitmore to the Northbridge tower. Alone.”