Chapter 10
The transition from a birthday party to a military staging ground happened with terrifying efficiency. The bright video colors of the cinematic daylight slowly transitioned into the warm, golden glow of the estate's interior chandeliers. Rafael stood in his highly secured, mahogany-paneled council room, a glass of bourbon resting untouched on his massive desk.
He had removed his suit jacket, the deeply masculine presence of his athletic frame dominating the room. The heavy oak doors swung open, and his three senior capos walked in. They were hardened veterans, men whose fair, rosy faces bore the scars of a dozen syndicate wars.
"The targets have been deposited at the city limits, Boss," Marcus reported, standing at attention. "They are making calls from a payphone. Our wiretaps confirm they reached out to the Falcone family in New York."
Rafael’s sharply defined jawline clenched. The Falcone syndicate was a massive, ruthless organization, and Beatrice had old ties to their leadership. She was attempting to sell the Castellano secrets in exchange for an army to reclaim her throne.
"She believes," Rafael murmured, his deep, raspy voice echoing in the quiet study, "that because she knows our ledgers, she holds power. She forgets who commands the soldiers."
"The Falcones have a massive standing army, Rafael," another capo warned, stepping closer. "If they back her claim, they will move against our supply lines tonight. We will be fighting a war on multiple fronts."
"We do not wait to be attacked," Rafael commanded softly, his cold, intimidating eyes narrowing into lethal slits. The controlled pauses in his speech painted a horrific, vivid picture of the violence to come. "We are going to expand our borders."
"What are your orders, Mr. Castellano?" Marcus asked, a fierce, loyal fire igniting in his eyes.
"Mobilize the elite strike teams. Arm every loyal soldier on the payroll," Rafael ordered, his voice dropping into a register of pure, concentrated ice. "I want the Falcone money-laundering fronts raided tonight. Burn their warehouses. Cripple their infrastructure before they even have a chance to organize their men."
"A preemptive strike," Marcus nodded.
"Total eradication," Rafael corrected, staring out the reinforced window into the darkening evening. "I want every family in this country to understand exactly what it costs to threaten my bloodline. Leave no survivors at the command level."
"Consider it done," the capos affirmed in unison, turning swiftly to execute the orders that would plunge the criminal underworld into violent chaos.
May you like
As the men left to begin the purge, Rafael remained alone in the bright, beautifully lit study. He walked back to the window, watching his convoy of armored vehicles roar out of the estate gates, heading toward enemy territory.
He had protected his daughter. He had cut the rot from his own family. But as he stared out into the night, his encrypted phone on the desk began to vibrate. He knew the monsters outside the gates were gathering. The war with the rival families was coming, bringing fire and blood to the streets. 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.
