Chapter 9
The swift, brutal execution of Cassian’s orders was a testament to his absolute power. Silas and Marcus moved with terrifying efficiency. They grabbed the bleeding, groaning Tristan, violently tearing the gold family pin from the lapel of his ruined suit. They confiscated his concealed weapon and his phone, stripping him of all authority and rank within the syndicate in front of the entire assembly.
Two other bodyguards hauled the screaming, hysterical Vivienne to her feet, ignoring her desperate pleas for mercy as they removed her communication devices. The matriarch and the senior capo were reduced to nothing more than prisoners in a matter of seconds.
"Cassian, you cannot do this!" Vivienne shrieked, her aristocratic composure completely destroyed, her fair skin stained with ruined makeup. "The Commission will demand a tribunal! You are tearing the family apart!"
"I am cutting out a cancer," Cassian corrected, his raspy voice echoing with cold, unyielding finality. "Take them to the soundproof holding cells in the sub-basement. Zip-tie them to the chairs. Do not give them food. Do not give them water. I will be down later to personally extract the names of every man who helped them fake the execution order."
"Yes, Boss!" the bodyguards responded in unison.
They dragged the thrashing, sobbing Vivienne and the defeated, bleeding Tristan out of the bright, cinematic light of the ballroom. The heavy mahogany doors were unlocked just long enough to push them into the corridor before slamming shut again, sealing the room in a heavy, awestruck silence.
The internal coup was crushed. The traitors were removed. Cassian slowly turned his back on the locked doors and walked toward Elena and Isla.
The elite wedding guests and the remaining capos averted their eyes, showing ultimate respect as the Mafia boss approached his newly discovered family.
Cassian stopped in front of them. The cold, intimidating aura that had filled the room vanished entirely, replaced by a profound, agonizing vulnerability. He dropped to his knees on the marble floor, completely ignoring the crease in his tailored dark trousers. He looked at Isla, the beautiful three-year-old girl in the dusty-rose dress.
"Isla," Cassian murmured gently, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. He held out his large, powerful hands, his palms open and inviting.
Isla looked up at her mother. Elena, crying softly, offered a small, reassuring nod.
The little girl stepped forward and placed her tiny hands into Cassian’s large, tattooed palms. Cassian let out a shuddering breath and pulled her into a fierce, desperate embrace. He closed his eyes, resting his chin on her soft hair, the sheer weight of the stolen years crashing over him. For the first time in three years, the Don of the Morelli family felt his heart beat.
He looked up at Elena over the child's shoulder. "I am so sorry, Elena. I swear on my life, I did not know. I will spend the rest of my days making this right."
May you like
Elena wiped a tear from her rosy cheek. "I know, Cassian. I know."
"You are never leaving my sight again," Cassian promised, standing up and lifting Isla effortlessly into his arms. He looked at Elena, his dark eyes burning with absolute, protective devotion. "Both of you. This is your home now. No one will ever threaten you again."
