Chapter 10
The mansion was heavily fortified, the perimeter crawling with armed guards. The bright, cinematic lighting of the atrium had been dimmed, replaced by the harsh, strategic glare of security floodlights outside the windows. The celebration had ended in bloodshed, and the night had settled into a tense, agonizing wait for the inevitable retaliation.
Domenico sat in a large leather armchair in the corner of Ruby's newly restored bedroom. The soft glow of a bedside lamp illuminated the room, casting gentle shadows across the walls. Ruby was fast asleep in her bed, her breathing steady and deep, her small hands clutching a stuffed animal.
He watched her with an unblinking, protective stare. The cold, intimidating facade that he wore for his capos and his enemies had vanished entirely. In the quiet solitude of the nursery, he was simply a father standing guard over his child.
His cell phone vibrated silently in his suit pocket. He pulled it out, the bright screen illuminating his face in the dim room.
It was a secure, encrypted text message from an unknown number.
Domenico swiped the screen open. He read the text slowly, his jaw tightening, the muscles in his neck cording with sudden tension.
You hit my son. You shamed my daughter. The docks are already burning, Domenico. But I am not aiming for your warehouses. Check the security feed for the western gate.
Domenico’s blood ran cold. He immediately tapped the security application on his phone, bringing up the live camera feed for the heavily reinforced western entrance of the estate.
The screen flickered to life. The high-definition camera showed the massive iron gates standing firm. But parked directly in front of the gates, bathed in the harsh security lighting, was a single, unmarked black van.
Domenico zoomed in on the image. The back doors of the van were wide open. Inside, sitting on a wooden crate, was the head of his daytime security detail, bound and gagged. Strapped to the man's chest was a complex, blinking explosive device, the timer glowing a bright, ominous red.
The timer read two minutes and fourteen seconds.
Domenico stood up slowly, the phone tightly gripped in his tattooed hand. He looked at his sleeping daughter, then turned his sharp, cold eyes toward the heavy oak door of the bedroom.
The war had not waited for dawn. The Cole family had already breached his outer defenses, and they had brought the fight directly to his front door.
May you like
Domenico slipped his suit jacket off, draping it over the back of the armchair. He reached to his waistband, drawing a heavy, matte-black automatic pistol, checking the chamber with a quiet, metallic click.
He stepped out into the hallway, pulling the bedroom door securely shut behind him, ready to walk into the fire.
