Chapter 10
The grand dining hall was silent once more. The shattered crystal and torn ribbons had been swept into neat piles by the staff, but the scent of spilled vintage wine and iron still lingered in the air like gunpowder after a skirmish.
Alaric walked slowly back to the head of the banquet table. He pulled out the ornate, carved armchair beside his own—the very chair Bianca had shoved Serena out of—and held it steady.
“Sit, my dear,” Alaric said, his voice warm, gentle, and utterly devoid of the monster that had terrorized the room only moments before.
Serena walked forward and took her rightful seat. She smoothed the emerald silk over her knees, resting her arms against the carved mahogany. Down the length of the long table, the sixty remaining capos, lieutenants, and family elders rose to their feet as one. They raised their glasses of red wine, their eyes fixed not on Alaric, but on Serena.
“To the Montesi bloodline,” Alaric said, raising his heavy crystal glass. “Pure, unbroken, and sovereign.”
“To the Montesi bloodline,” the room roared back, the sound echoing through the rafters of the estate.
The feast resumed. Soft jazz began to drift from the string quartet in the corner, and servers moved silently between guests, pouring wine and carving roast meats as if a dynasty had not just been shattered on the floor ten minutes earlier.
Serena rested her chin on her hand, watching the men talk in low, respectful voices. Beneath her emerald gown, her baby kicked—strong, steady, and alive. A quiet smile touched the corners of her lips. She had survived. Her child had survived. The war within her home was over.
Then, a sudden, sharp vibration buzzed across the polished mahogany.
Serena looked down. It was not her phone.
Lying beside Bastian’s empty wine glass was a sleek, black burner phone that had fallen from his coat pocket during the scuffle. Its screen lit up with a harsh blue glow against the dark wood.
No name appeared on the caller ID. Only a single encrypted text message that read:
“Bastian, the shipment from Sicily just cleared the docks under your name. If Alaric finds out what’s inside the second container, he won't just kill you—he will burn the entire Eastern Seaboard. Where are you?”
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Serena stared at the screen, the blood freezing in her veins.
Beside her, Alaric saw her expression shift. The patriarch slowly lowered his glass, his dark eyes locking onto the glowing screen between them. Outside the estate’s grand bay windows, thunder rumbled across the dark horizon over the Atlantic, signaling that the true storm had only just begun to gather.
