Chapter 12
The interior of the armored SUV was pitch black, silent except for the heavy thrum of the engine as it tore down the deserted highway toward Chicago. Alessandra had changed out of her crimson evening gown. She now wore a sleek, immaculate black pantsuit, tailored sharply to her elegant figure. Her hair was pulled back into a severe, flawless knot, exposing the heavy diamond earrings and the solid gold signet ring that caught the faint streetlights flashing past the tinted windows.
She sat completely still in the back seat, running a thumb over the cold gold of the family ring. She thought of Mason, the ten-year-old boy currently sleeping in her heavily guarded estate, stripped of his arrogant entitlement. She had offered him a choice between exile and submission, and he had chosen her. She wondered if the Commission would be smart enough to make the same choice.
The convoy rolled into the industrial district of Chicago just as the first grey hints of dawn began to bleed into the sky. The cinematic, natural lighting of the impending sunrise offered no warmth, only a crisp, unforgiving clarity. The SUV pulled up to a massive, heavily fortified warehouse. Dozens of armed men in tailored suits stood by the loading bays, their hands resting on concealed weapons.
Silas, riding in the front passenger seat, turned back to look at her. "The perimeter is secure, Boss. The freighter is in position beneath the warehouse. The detonator is synced to your heartbeat monitor. If they kill you, this entire block goes up in flames."
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"They won't kill me," Alessandra said softly, her voice carrying absolute, terrifying authority.
She opened the heavy, armored door and stepped out into the freezing wind. The Chicago bodyguards parted instantly, their eyes tracking her every movement. They had expected a fractured, desperate woman. Instead, they watched a queen walk into the slaughterhouse as if she already owned it. Alessandra Romano didn't bring an army inside; she brought a promise of total annihilation.
