Chapter 9
The transition from a wedding preparation to a war room happened in a matter of hours. The bright, cinematic daylight faded into a deep, stark evening, the interior of the Moretti estate illuminated by sharp, artificial lights. The beautiful floral arrangements in the hallways were pushed aside, replaced by heavy crates of ammunition and tactical gear.
Galen sat at the head of a massive oak table in his private study, the heavy wooden doors closed against the chaos outside. Four of his most senior capos stood around him, their suit jackets discarded, reviewing blueprints of the city's territories.
"The Vales are mobilizing," a capo named Rick reported, tossing a stack of surveillance photos onto the table. "Our scouts on the South Side confirm that Arthur Vale has called in his lieutenants. They are arming up. They expect us to turtle up here at the estate."
"Arthur thinks I am acting out of sudden, emotional rage," Galen murmured, his thick hair catching the light as he leaned forward. "He believes I am blinded by the insult to my daughter. He expects me to wait for his retaliation."
"He's going to hit our clubs first," Vince pointed out, tracing a route on the map. "If he wants to cripple our cash flow, he'll send strike teams to the downtown establishments tonight."
"Let him," Galen said.
The capos looked at him in surprise.
"You want us to surrender the clubs?" Rick asked, his fair face twisting in confusion.
"I want the clubs empty," Galen corrected smoothly. His deep, raspy voice was entirely calm. "Evacuate the staff. Remove the cash reserves. Leave the doors unlocked. Let Arthur Vale send his best men into empty buildings. Let him waste his resources shooting at ghosts."
Galen stood up, the tailored dark vest pulling tight across his broad, masculine chest. He walked over to a heavy safe built into the wall, spinning the dial with practiced ease.
"While his strike teams are downtown hitting empty brick walls," Galen continued, opening the heavy steel door, "the Vale compound on the South Side will be operating with half their usual security."
He reached into the safe and pulled out a heavy, suppressed tactical pistol, laying it flat on the oak table.
"We are not going to fight a defensive war, gentlemen," Galen announced, his cold, intimidating eyes locking onto each of his men. "We are going to cut off the head of the snake tonight. I want three assault teams ready in ten minutes. We are hitting Arthur Vale in his own home."
A dark, violent excitement rippled through the capos. It was an audacious, incredibly dangerous plan, but it was exactly the kind of ruthless strategy that had made Galen the most feared boss in Chicago.
"I'll prepare the vehicles, Boss," Vince said, a grim smile forming. "We'll run dark. They won't see us coming until we are kicking in their front door."
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"Ensure the estate remains heavily guarded," Galen reminded them, his priority never shifting. "Eira’s safety is absolute. If a single Vale soldier makes it onto this grass, I will hold you all personally responsible."
"Understood," the men chorused, filing out of the room to execute their deadly orders.
