Chapter 10
The estate was quiet, the heavy silence masking the lethal tension vibrating through the walls. Galen walked out of his study, his suit jacket back on, concealing the heavy weapon holstered beneath his arm. The polished leather of his shoes echoed softly down the long, carpeted hallway leading to the nursery wing.
He opened the heavy oak door slowly.
The room was bathed in soft, warm light. Eira was fast asleep in her plush bed, her breathing slow and even. The torn flower-girl dress had been replaced by soft pajamas. Maria, the nanny, sat in a chair by the window, reading a book.
Galen walked over to the bed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the repaired gold locket. He had personally fixed the broken link with a pair of pliers from his desk. He gently placed the necklace on the nightstand beside his sleeping daughter.
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. The deeply masculine, terrifying Mafia boss allowed himself a single second of vulnerability before his face hardened back into an emotionless mask.
"Keep the door locked, Maria," Galen whispered. "Do not open it until I return."
"Be safe, Mr. Moretti," Maria replied softly, her eyes wide with understanding.
Galen exited the nursery and walked toward the front entrance of the estate. Vince was waiting by the heavy double doors, a tactical radio in his hand.
"The assault teams are loaded in the vehicles, Boss," Vince reported. "We are ready to roll on the South Side."
Before Galen could push open the door, his cell phone vibrated heavily in his pocket.
He pulled it out. The caller ID displayed a restricted number. Galen answered, bringing the phone to his ear.
"Galen," a gravelly, furious American accent echoed through the speaker. It was Arthur Vale.
"Arthur," Galen replied coldly, his voice a low, lethal hum.
"You broke my son’s face, and you humiliated my daughter," Arthur snarled, his rage palpable even through the digital connection. "You broke the treaty. By midnight, your empire will be ashes. I am going to bury you, Moretti."
Galen stood completely still. He looked out through the glass panels of the front door at the fleet of black, armored SUVs waiting in the darkness of his driveway.
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"You are welcome to try, Arthur," Galen whispered, perfectly measured and incredibly dangerous. "But you should look out your window. The fire has already started."
He ended the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket. He pushed the heavy doors open, stepping out into the cool Chicago night. The war had begun.
