Chapter 9
The drive back to the sprawling Valegrove estate was suffocatingly tense. The bright afternoon sun was beginning to dip, casting long, dramatic shadows across the tinted windows of the armored SUV. Anselm sat in the plush leather seat, his mind racing through the tactical implications of the impending war. He had imprisoned a senator's daughter and declared a violent vendetta against anyone involved in the desecration of his mother's grave. The political fallout would be catastrophic.
Amelie sat closely beside him, her delicate hands folded tightly in her lap. Her sophisticated black maid dress felt absurdly out of place in the heavy, militarized vehicle, but Anselm had refused to let her ride back with the staff. She was under his direct, personal protection now.
"Will your capos support this war, Anselm?" Amelie asked softly, breaking the heavy silence in the cabin.
Anselm turned his head, his sharp, angular face catching the fading light. "Do you believe men who profit from peace will willingly march into a bloodbath without hesitation?"
"They saw what she did," Amelie reasoned, her expressive eyes filled with worry. "They saw her disrespect the family."
"Is disrespect enough to motivate greedy men to risk their fortunes against the federal government?" Anselm countered, his voice a low, vibrating rumble. "I will have to force their loyalty. I will have to burn out the traitors before they can sell me to the senator."
The SUV pulled through the heavy iron gates of the estate. The mansion was already buzzing with frantic activity. Heavily armed guards patrolled the perimeter, and luxury cars belonging to the senior capos were hastily parking in the circular driveway. The war council was gathering.
As they stepped out of the vehicle, the head of Anselm's security detail, a seasoned man named Vance, approached rapidly. His face was grim under the cinematic lighting of the portico.
"Boss, we have a massive problem," Vance reported, his American accent clipped and urgent. "The senator knows. One of Tallulah's men managed to get a distress signal out before we jammed their communications. The state police are setting up roadblocks a mile out, and we're getting reports of unmarked federal vehicles mobilizing downtown."
Anselm’s dark eyes narrowed into cold, unforgiving slits. The retaliation was happening faster than anticipated.
"Are they demanding negotiations, or are they preparing to lay siege to my home?" Anselm asked, his broad shoulders squaring as he adjusted his tailored dark suit.
"They're demanding we release her immediately, sir," Vance said, checking his watch. "They're giving us one hour before they breach the gates with tactical teams."
Anselm looked down at Amelie. Her fair, rosy skin was pale with terror. She had sparked this inferno by pushing a trolley to save him, and now the entire weight of the state government was bearing down on them.
"Will you go down to the secure bunker beneath the wine cellar and wait there until this is over, Amelie?" Anselm asked, his voice softening entirely as he looked at her.
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"No," Amelie said, shaking her head fiercely. She reached out, grabbing the lapels of his heavy black overcoat. "Please, Anselm. Don't fight them. They have the police. They will kill you."
"Do you think I can allow a corrupt politician to dictate the terms of my survival while my mother's remains are still missing?" Anselm asked, his dark eyes burning with an intense, unwavering devotion.
