Chapter 5
The bodyguards moved with ruthless, mechanical efficiency. They hauled the screaming, hysterical Faye out of the dining room. Two more men dragged the groaning, bleeding Bastian from the wreckage of the gift table, his polished leather shoes scraping against the marble floor.
Bianca shrieked as she was grabbed, her luxurious formal dress tearing as she fought against the bodyguards.
"Alaric, you are making a mistake!" Bianca wailed, her heavy pearl jewelry rattling. "The commission will not stand for this! We have friends in New York!"
"Your friends will attend your funeral, Bianca," Alaric whispered softly as she was dragged past him.
The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut, abruptly cutting off the desperate, panicked screams of the traitors.
The dining room descended into a heavy, ringing silence. The wealthy, fair-skinned guests and Capos sat completely frozen, terrified that the slightest movement would draw the Don's lethal attention. The bright cinematic lighting illuminated the catastrophic wreckage of the gift table—the crushed boxes, the torn wrapping paper, the spilled champagne.
Alaric stood perfectly still in the center of the room. He slowly adjusted the cuffs of his crisp white dress shirt. The brutal violence of the last ten minutes had been executed with the flawless precision of a surgeon excising a tumor.
He turned his cold, intimidating eyes back toward his daughter.
Serena was weeping quietly in the ornate chair, one hand resting on her swollen belly, the other wiping the tears from her pale cheeks.
"Serena," Alaric murmured softly, crossing the room to stand beside her. The terrifying Mafia boss melted away entirely, replaced by a father whose only priority was his child. He knelt beside her chair, resting his large, masculine hand gently over hers.
"Dad," Serena choked out, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know he was going to bring her here. I didn't know he was planning this."
"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, principessa," Alaric promised, his deep, raspy voice filled with an unwavering, fierce protective love. "You are not responsible for the treason of a weak man."
"What is going to happen now?" Serena asked, looking toward the closed doors. "Bastian’s family... they control the southern transit routes. If you lock him in the basement, his Capos will rebel."
"Let them rebel," Alaric replied coldly, a dark, dangerous smirk touching the corners of his mouth. "I have tolerated the Coletti family's incompetence for five years because of your marriage. That protection is now revoked."
He stood up to his full height, turning his attention to the silent room of Capos and family members.
May you like
"The celebration is concluded," Alaric announced, his voice echoing with measured, dangerous authority. "Clear the room. Anyone who speaks of what occurred here today will answer directly to me."
The guests didn't need to be told twice. A mass, hurried exodus began. The rustle of expensive fabrics and the rapid clicking of heels filled the room as the elite society fled the impending slaughterhouse. No one looked back at the ruined gift table. No one asked questions. Within five minutes, the vast dining hall was completely empty, save for Alaric, his daughter, and his most loyal bodyguards.
