Chapter 9
The atmosphere inside the Ashford estate transformed from a luxurious garden party into a heavily fortified war room in less than twenty minutes. The massive wrought-iron gates at the entrance were locked down and reinforced. Heavily armed men in tactical gear replaced the waitstaff, patrolling the perimeter with assault rifles and night-vision equipment as the hot afternoon sun began its slow descent toward the horizon.
Malcolm stood at the head of the long mahogany table in the estate's private library, the room illuminated by the warm glow of antique lamps. Spread across the table were blueprints of the property, city maps, and live feeds from the security cameras positioned around the perimeter. His top lieutenants, the men who had proven their loyalty by standing with him against Evelyn's attempted coup, flanked him on both sides.
"Report," Malcolm commanded, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a blade. He leaned over the table, his muscular frame imposing even in the dim light.
"The Barzini hitters are twenty minutes out, Boss," a lieutenant named Elias reported, pointing to a flashing red icon on a digital map. "They're moving in a convoy of four unmarked SUVs. We estimate at least twenty heavily armed professionals. They aren't coming to talk; they're coming for a siege."
"Twenty men," Malcolm mused, his deep, piercing eyes calculating the odds. "They think we are disorganized because of the internal conflict with Evelyn. They expect us to be bleeding."
"We have the high ground and the reinforced walls, Malcolm," another capo added nervously. "We can hold them off until the police respond to the gunfire."
"No," Malcolm stated flatly, standing up straight. His dark three-piece suit absorbed the light, making him look like a shadow cast over the room. "We do not involve the police. We do not cower behind our walls and hope they run out of ammunition. That projects weakness. We must break them completely before they ever reach the gates."
The lieutenants exchanged uncertain glances. "How do you propose we do that, Boss? They are heavily armed."
Malcolm’s sharp jawline tightened. "We ambush them at the bottleneck on Route 9. It’s a narrow, heavily wooded stretch of road two miles from here. No cameras, no witnesses. We hit the lead and trail vehicles simultaneously, trapping them in the center. We don't give them a chance to deploy."
"That requires precision, Boss," Elias noted, sweat beading on his forehead. "If they break through the ambush, they will come straight for the estate, and we won't have enough men here to defend it."
"Then we make sure they don't break through," Malcolm replied with absolute certainty. He reached across the table, picking up a heavy, customized tactical handgun from a velvet case. He checked the magazine with practiced, terrifying efficiency before sliding it into the shoulder holster beneath his tailored jacket.
"You're leading the ambush yourself?" Elias asked, his eyes widening in shock. "Boss, that's incredibly dangerous. You should stay here, secure in the bunker with your son."
"My son was tortured today because people in this world believed I had grown soft," Malcolm said, his voice dropping to a lethal, unforgiving whisper. "I am going to remind the Commission, and everyone else who breathes, exactly why I rule this city. I want every available man armed and in the vehicles in five minutes."
"Yes, Boss," the lieutenants echoed in unison, scrambling out of the library to execute his orders.
May you like
Malcolm stood alone for a brief moment, the silence of the library pressing in around him. He looked down at his heavy family signet ring, the symbol of his power and his bloodline. He had built this empire to protect his family, and he would burn it all down to ashes before he let anyone take his son from him again.
He walked out of the library, the heavy oak doors closing with a resounding thud, ready to unleash hell on the men who had dared to cross him.
