Chapter 10
The armored, midnight-black SUV glided silently through the bustling, illuminated streets of New York City. Inside the spacious, climate-controlled cabin, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the violence of the theater. The soft, ambient lighting of the vehicle cast a gentle glow over Zuri, who was fast asleep on the plush leather seat, her small head resting comfortably on Roland’s lap. Her gold tulle gala dress was slightly wrinkled, but her breathing was deep and peaceful.
Roland sat perfectly still, his large, tattooed hand resting gently protectively on her back. The deeply masculine, terrifying Mafia boss stared out the tinted window at the passing city lights, his sharp, angular face an unreadable mask of cold granite.
The heavy, soundproof partition behind the driver’s seat lowered smoothly. Silas, sitting in the front passenger seat, turned to face the Boss.
"They are secured at the warehouse, Roland," Silas reported quietly, ensuring he didn't wake the child. "Harrison’s phone was buzzing nonstop before we smashed it. His family knows he's missing. The rival syndicate will view this as an unprovoked abduction of a senior associate."
"It was not unprovoked," Roland murmured, his deep, raspy voice barely a whisper, yet vibrating with lethal intent. "He laid hands on me. His sister struck my blood. They broke the peace."
"They won't see it that way, Boss," Silas warned, his fair face lined with tension. "Harrison’s father controls the northern supply lines. He has a massive standing army of street soldiers. If we execute his son and his daughter, he will declare total war on this family. We will be fighting block by block."
Roland slowly turned his head away from the window, his cold, intimidating eyes locking onto his capo. The charming, romantic look of the loose hair falling over his forehead completely belied the apocalyptic violence he was prepared to unleash.
"Let him declare war," Roland stated softly, the controlled pauses in his speech highlighting his absolute, terrifying resolve. "He believes that because he controls the supply lines, he holds the power. He forgets who provides the muscle to protect those lines."
"What are your orders, Mr. Boss?" Silas asked, his hand resting instinctively on his concealed weapon, ready to follow the patriarch into hell.
"We do not wait to be attacked," Roland commanded, his voice dropping into a register of pure, concentrated ice. "Mobilize the elite strike teams. Arm every loyal soldier on the payroll. I want their primary money-laundering fronts raided tonight. Burn their warehouses. Cripple their infrastructure before they even realize their children are sitting in my cells."
"A preemptive strike," Silas nodded, a fierce, loyal fire igniting in his eyes.
"Total eradication," Roland corrected, looking back down at his sleeping granddaughter. "I want every family in this city to understand exactly what it costs to threaten what is mine. Leave no survivors at the command level."
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"Consider it done," Silas affirmed, raising the partition to begin orchestrating the bloody purge that would plunge the city into violent chaos.
As the armored SUV pulled into the heavily fortified gates of the Moretti estate, Roland gently stroked Zuri’s hair. He had protected his granddaughter today, cutting the rot out of his own family to keep her safe. But as he looked out at the dark, sprawling city, he knew the monsters outside the gates were gathering. The war with the northern families was coming, bringing fire and blood to the streets of New York. But as long as he drew breath, the light in his home would never go out. He was ready for whatever came next, a lethal guardian standing watch over his empire.
