Chapter 10
The sun dipped below the horizon, plunging the sprawling grounds of the estate into twilight, though the interior remained brightly lit with crisp, cinematic white light. Aldric stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his private study, looking out over the manicured lawns. The reflection in the glass showed a man at the height of his power, deeply masculine, impeccably dressed, and radiating a terrifying, absolute authority.
"Marcus," Aldric said, not turning away from the window. His voice was steady, measured, and cold as ice. "Recall all our lieutenants. I want every capo from the outer boroughs brought to the main compound by midnight."
"Yes, Boss," Marcus replied, standing rigidly by the heavy mahogany desk. "Should we prepare the safe houses for the non-combatants?"
"No," Aldric commanded. He turned slowly, his sharp, intimidating eyes locking onto his security chief. The artistic tattoos on his hands flexed as he rested them on the edge of the desk. "We are not hiding. We are not retreating. If the Ashford family wants to invite the Chicago syndicate into our city, we will make sure they never leave."
"We are going on the offensive," Marcus nodded, a fierce, loyal fire burning in his eyes.
"I want the armories opened," Aldric instructed, his tone methodical and relentless. "I want eyes on every major highway, every private airstrip, and every port. If a single Chicago soldier sets foot across our borders, I want them executed immediately. No warnings. No negotiations."
"And what about Heloise's father?" Marcus asked. "He initiated the call."
"He breached the peace," Aldric murmured, his jaw clenching as he remembered the sight of his daughter sleeping on a filthy kitchen floor. "He thought his money made him untouchable. Now he thinks his new friends will protect him. I want a strike team sent to his estate tonight. Burn the house to the ground. Leave him alive to watch it burn, so he understands exactly what it means to threaten my family."
"Consider it done, Aldric."
Marcus turned and swiftly exited the study, leaving the door slightly ajar. The sound of heavy boots and rapid, tactical preparations began to echo through the massive house. The estate was transforming from a luxury residence into a heavily fortified war room.
Aldric stood alone in the bright, quiet study. He walked over to his desk and opened the top drawer. Inside, resting on dark velvet, was a heavy, customized firearm. He pulled it out, checking the chamber with practiced, lethal efficiency.
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He had spent the last five years building a legitimate facade, expanding his empire through real estate and banking, trying to provide a pristine, untouchable life for his daughter. But Heloise had shattered that illusion. She had reminded him that in this world, peace was only an illusion maintained by the threat of overwhelming violence.
Aldric slid the weapon into the shoulder holster concealed beneath his tailored suit jacket. He buttoned his shirt, adjusting his cuffs, his handsome face set into a mask of pure, unadulterated resolve. The war for the city had begun, and Aldric was ready to show the underworld exactly what happens when you lay a hand on the daughter of a king.
