Page 41 of Oliver (The Golden Team #7)

Oliver

Santorini – Vale’s Villa

T he villa loomed above us, opulent and cold. White stone, iron gates, and armed guards pretending they were catering staff. Vale knew how to throw a party. He just didn’t know it would be his last.

Cyclone and Raven flanked the service entrance while I moved toward the west wall, low and fast. We scaled the side using a drainage pipe, slipping through a second-story balcony window.

Inside, laughter echoed down the marble halls. Vale’s voice carried—smooth, smug, like he was already toasting to whatever shady empire he thought he’d keep.

We followed the sound.

I found him in a sunken lounge, surrounded by men in tailored suits and fake smiles. He was holding a glass of whiskey, his back to the room, explaining how “the American asset” had been neutralized.

He was talking about Emery.

I didn’t wait.

“Funny,” I said, stepping into the light. “She’s not neutralized. She’s planning a swimwear launch and dancing barefoot on my front porch.”

He turned.

And for the first time, Anthony Vale looked afraid.

Raven and Cyclone flooded in behind me, guns drawn.

“It’s over,” I said. “You’re done.”

But Vale wasn’t stupid. He put his drink down slowly and smiled like a cobra.

“Ah. Mr. Steele. I wondered when you’d come crawling out of retirement. Tell me—how is our little Olympian?”

I growled. “Wrong answer.”

Vale lifted his hands. “You have no idea what she stumbled into. Emery Blake didn’t just see a deal. She saw data . A thumb drive with every name, every transaction, every asset tied to an international network of off-book operations. I had it encrypted. Hidden.”

I stepped forward. “Where is it?”

“In the lining of the training facility’s emergency AED box,” he said, smiling. “Hidden in plain sight.”

“Why tell us?”

He laughed. “Because if I disappear, there are ten others who will burn down your world looking for it. She doesn’t even know what she has.”

My hand curled into a fist.

“And if she ever goes public,” he added, “she’ll be dead within twenty-four hours.”

I hit him.

Hard.

He hit the floor with blood on his lip, and that smug smile was still twitching.

“Your mistake,” I said, “was underestimating the kind of man who’d go to hell and back for her.”

Raven slapped cuffs on him while Cyclone disabled the security feeds. We got out the same way we came in—fast, quiet, and with Vale gagged in the back of a blacked-out SUV.

Once we were clear, I dialed her.

“Em? We’ve got him.”

Her breath caught. “And the truth?”

“He gave us everything. You weren’t just a witness. You’re holding the key.”

Silence.

Then: “Then it’s not over.”

“No, sweetheart,” I said. “But we’ve got the upper hand now.”