Chapter 10
The bright, luminous colors of the dining hall felt like a stark, surreal backdrop to the devastating emotional resolution unfolding at the head of the table. Silas stood perfectly still, his tailored dark three-piece suit an anchor of masculine authority in the chaotic aftermath. He took a slow, controlled breath, the tension bleeding out of his broad, powerful shoulders.
"Will my men escort you to the lower levels, Maribel, or will you walk there yourself to await my judgment?" Silas asked softly, gesturing with a heavily tattooed hand toward the armed guards.
Maribel let out a ragged, humiliated sob as the guards began to drag her toward the heavy double doors. Her furious, terrified screams echoed through the bright, airy room, fading only when the doors slammed shut, plunging the dining hall back into a profound, ringing silence.
Silas turned his full attention back to the beautiful housemaid and his young daughter. The cold, terrifying edge of the Mafia boss softened considerably as he looked down at little Annie.
The eight-year-old girl was crying softly, burying her face into Keira's white apron. The relief of finally exposing the truth, combined with the crushing terror of the evening, was overwhelming.
Silas slowly dropped to one knee, entirely disregarding his expensive clothing. He brought himself down to the child's eye level. He reached out with his heavily tattooed hand, his fingers moving with profound, unexpected gentleness. He gently brushed a tear from Annie's fair, rosy cheek.
"Are you safe now, my daughter?" Silas asked, his deep voice returning to a warm, comforting rumble. He made sure to speak clearly, allowing her to read his lips.
Annie sniffled, looking at the tall, imposing man with wide, innocent eyes. She nodded slowly, throwing her small arms around his thick neck. Silas closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, holding the girl tightly, an overwhelming surge of grief and protective fury crashing over him.
After a long moment, Silas stood back up. He turned his perceptive gaze toward the housemaid who had risked everything to protect the life of the boss. Keira stood quietly in her sophisticated black maid dress, her hands still resting protectively on Annie's shoulders. Her softly heart-shaped face was pale from the adrenaline, but her expressive brows were relaxed.
"Do you understand the magnitude of the debt I owe you tonight, Keira?" Silas asked, looking deeply into her delicate features.
Keira’s fair, rosy cheeks flushed a delicate pink under his intense, perceptive gaze. "I only did what was right, sir. I couldn't let her hurt you."
"Is bravery not the rarest commodity in our world?" Silas questioned, bowing his head slightly in a profound gesture of respect. "Will you assist my daughter to her suite, Keira? Will you stay with her until I return?"
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"I won't leave her side, Mr. Cross," Keira promised, reaching out to gently take Annie's hand.
Silas watched them walk toward the heavy double doors leading to the residential wing. His angular face, usually a mask of impenetrable authority, softened with a rare, genuine gratitude. A young woman in a maid's uniform had demonstrated a courage that surpassed his fiercest soldiers, changing the entire trajectory of his family. He buttoned his suit jacket, preparing to descend into the lower levels. The war with the Shaw family was just beginning, but his home was finally secure.
