Chapter 10
The grand ballroom, once a scene of elegant celebration and sudden, catastrophic violence, now felt like a fortified sanctuary. The bright, cinematic lighting cast a warm, protective glow over the reunited family. Cassian held Isla securely against his broad chest, her small arms wrapped tightly around his neck. The little girl rested her head on his tailored suit, completely exhausted by the emotional whirlwind of the afternoon.
Elena stood close beside them, the lingering terror finally beginning to fade from her beautiful, rosy face. For three years, she had lived as a ghost, hiding in the shadows of the country, terrified of the powerful man who now held their daughter with such profound, aching tenderness.
"We need to get you out of this room," Cassian murmured, his raspy voice gentle. "I have a secure penthouse on the top floor of the estate. It is impenetrable. You and Isla will be safe there while I handle the fallout from today."
"Okay," Elena nodded, her American accent soft. "I trust you."
Cassian turned to his lead capo. "Clear a path to the private elevators. Have the chef prepare whatever the child wants to eat. And double the perimeter guard. Tristan had loyalists in the lower ranks. I want this estate locked down tighter than a federal vault."
"Right away, Boss," the capo responded, instantly mobilizing the security detail.
The heavy mahogany doors were pulled open, and a corridor of heavily armed men formed, creating a safe passage for the Don and his family. Cassian placed a protective hand on the small of Elena’s back, guiding her out of the ballroom and into the quiet, luxurious hallway leading to the private elevator banks.
As they walked, the tension in Cassian’s jaw began to ease. He had his family back. The enemies within his walls had been exposed and neutralized. The future, once a dark and lonely expanse, was suddenly full of light.
They reached the polished brass doors of the private elevator. Cassian reached out to press the call button.
Suddenly, the encrypted, secure smartphone in Cassian’s inner jacket pocket began to vibrate heavily.
Cassian frowned. Only his highest-ranking operatives had access to that specific number, and they knew better than to call unless it was an absolute, syndicate-threatening emergency. He shifted Isla slightly in his arms and pulled the phone out. The caller ID displayed an unknown, heavily encrypted international number.
He answered the call, bringing the phone to his ear. "Speak."
A slow, chilling, distorted voice echoed through the speaker. "Did you really think it was that easy, Cassian? Did you really think Vivienne and Tristan acted alone?"
Cassian froze, his blood turning to ice. The cold, penetrating, intimidating Mafia boss instantly returned. "Who is this?"
"You found your daughter," the voice mocked, a dark, sinister laugh scratching over the line. "But you forgot to check the perimeter of your own borders. Look out the window, Cassian. The real war is just beginning."
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The line went dead.
Cassian slowly lowered the phone. He turned his head and looked through the massive, floor-to-ceiling windows at the end of the hallway, gazing out over the sprawling city skyline. In the distance, rising from the direction of the Morelli family's most profitable, heavily guarded shipping ports, massive plumes of thick, black smoke were billowing into the bright afternoon sky. The ports were on fire. The true enemy had finally revealed themselves.
