My Milf Conqueror System novel Chapter 184

Chapter 184: Money shield

[Jake’s POV]

The combat corset was a medieval torture device made of Kevlar and high-tensile nylon.

When Claire pulled the straps tight, compressing the heavy bandages against the bullet wound in my side, the pain was so intense it literally drove me to my knees. I bit down on a rolled-up towel to keep from screaming, my vision flashing with brilliant bursts of white static. The pressure was agonizing, a constant, crushing weight against my torn muscle tissue.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry," Claire whispered frantically, her hands shaking as she locked the heavy buckles into place.

"It’s... fine," I gasped, spitting the towel out and forcing myself back to my feet.

The corset worked. It locked my torso into a rigid, unyielding brace, preventing the torn muscle tissue from shifting. It hurt to breathe, and it hurt to move, but I could walk without feeling like my insides were going to spill out onto the floor.

I pulled a loose, dark tactical sweater over the corset, hiding the bulky medical gear, and strapped a customized shoulder holster over my chest. I checked the action on my suppressed Glock 19, the familiar, heavy weight of the weapon grounding me in the terrifying reality of the moment.

"The convoy leaves the Metropolitan Correctional Center in ten minutes," Nia reported from the war room table, her eyes glued to the satellite feed. "Three armored SUVs. Charles Bancroft is in the center vehicle. They are taking the FDR Drive north toward the George Washington Bridge."

"Where is Blackwood?" Darius asked, stepping into the room. He was wearing full urban tactical gear, carrying a heavy duffel bag filled with breaching tools and extra magazines.

"I have traffic cameras scanning the route," Nia said, her fingers flying across the keyboard. "I’ve flagged two suspicious vehicles. Heavy, unmarked utility vans pacing the FDR Drive near 34th Street. They are loitering in the right lane, waiting for the convoy to pass."

"That’s the ambush point," I said, my mind calculating the tactical geometry of the highway. "34th Street is a bottleneck. Concrete barriers on both sides. No easy off-ramps. If Blackwood boxes the convoy in there, the feds are trapped."

"We need to beat them to the bottleneck," Darius said.

I nodded, turning toward the door.

"Jake."

I stopped, looking back. Elena Vance was standing near the edge of the mahogany table. The brilliant financial architect looked terrified, her dark eyes wide with a vulnerability I had rarely seen in her.

She walked over to me, ignoring the others in the room, and placed her hands flat against my chest, right over the heavy leather of my shoulder holster.

"You built an empire of billions," Elena whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You shielded it perfectly. You outsmarted the greatest financial predators in the world. Do not throw it all away in a street fight."

"I’m protecting our investment, Elena," I said softly, resting my hand over hers. "Charles Bancroft is the key to Isabella’s digital fragments. If he dies, she rebuilds. I won’t let that happen."

Elena looked up into my eyes, her sapiosexual devotion burning through her fear. She didn’t love me just for my power; she loved the sheer, terrifying brilliance of my ambition. She leaned up and pressed her lips to mine, a desperate, bruising kiss that tasted of fear and absolute loyalty.

"Come back to me," Elena breathed against my lips.

"I always do," I promised.

I pulled away, my side throbbing with a dull, heavy ache, and followed Darius out of the medical suite.

We took the private elevator down to the subterranean garage. Waiting for us was a heavily modified, matte-black Dodge Durango. It looked like a standard civilian vehicle, but the doors were lined with ballistic steel, the windows were bulletproof, and the engine had been tuned to produce over seven hundred horsepower.

Darius took the wheel. I climbed into the passenger seat, wincing as the corset dug into my ribs.

"Nia, we are mobile," I said, tapping the comms earpiece in my right ear. "Guide us in."

"Copy that," Nia’s voice crackled over the encrypted channel. "The federal convoy is on the move. They just merged onto the FDR Drive at South Street. They are moving fast. You need to intercept them before they hit 34th Street."

Darius slammed his foot on the accelerator. The Durango roared to life, tearing out of the Apex Tower garage and launching into the chaotic, neon-lit streets of Manhattan.

Darius drove with terrifying, mechanical precision. He didn’t use sirens or flashing lights. He simply wove through the dense New York traffic like a massive, unstoppable predator, utilizing the Durango’s sheer horsepower to force other cars out of the way.

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