Chapter 8
The sterile, concrete walls of the holding cell felt miles away from the gilded ceilings of the mansion above. Serena stared at the mobile phone resting on the thin mattress, her hands trembling violently. She looked up at Gideon, who stood perfectly still in the center of the room, his white shirt rolled at the sleeves, the artistic tattoo on his neck stark in the harsh overhead light.
"What are you going to do to me?" Serena whispered, her voice hoarse from crying.
"Does your fate not rest entirely on your father's next decision?" Gideon asked quietly.
Serena snatched the phone, dialing the number with frantic, shaking fingers. She pressed it to her ear, sobbing the moment the line connected. "Daddy! Please, you have to get me out of here! He locked me in the basement!"
Gideon stood impassively, listening to the muffled, furious shouting of Victor Blackwell on the other end of the line. The mafia boss was screaming threats, promising fire and brimstone.
"Put him on speaker," Gideon commanded.
Serena fumbled with the buttons, and Victor's roaring voice echoed in the small cell.
"Gideon! You son of a bitch! You release my daughter this instant, or I will paint your walls with the blood of your men!" Victor screamed.
"Do you know why your daughter is currently occupying my cell, Victor?" Gideon asked, his voice a low, measured rumble that cut through the older man's hysteria.
"I don't care if she burned your house down!" Victor roared. "She is a Blackwell! You broke the engagement! You broke the treaty! We are at war!"
"Did you authorize her to steal the compensation funds I paid to the widow of my fallen guard?" Gideon inquired smoothly. "Did you authorize her to enslave that widow in my kitchens to hide the theft?"
The line went dead silent for three long seconds. The code of the mafia was brutal, but it had rules. Stealing blood money from a fallen soldier's family was a profound violation of respect, a crime that could turn an entire syndicate against its leadership.
"You're lying," Victor finally hissed, though the absolute certainty had vanished from his voice.
"Will you ask her yourself?" Gideon asked, looking down at Serena.
"Daddy, I had to!" Serena sobbed into the phone. "It was hundreds of thousands of dollars! We needed the liquidity for the port bribes! I put it in our accounts!"
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the speakerphone. Victor Blackwell had just realized his daughter had not only betrayed her fiancé, but had implicated their entire family in a massive, dishonorable theft.
"Do you understand the position you have put us in, Serena?" Victor asked, his voice suddenly sounding incredibly old and tired.
"Are you still marching on my gates by dawn, Victor?" Gideon asked, leaning slightly closer to the phone.
"What are your terms, Gideon?" Victor asked, completely defeated.
"Will you surrender the western shipping routes to my control as payment for the stolen funds?" Gideon asked. "And will you accept that your daughter remains in my custody until the transition is complete?"
May you like
"...Yes," Victor whispered.
"Shall we finalize the paperwork after I bury my man tomorrow?" Gideon asked, before reaching down and ending the call, leaving Serena weeping uncontrollably on the cot.
