Chapter 10
Callan did not flinch. He slowly pulled his hand away from Nadine’s face, his posture instantly shifting back into that of a wartime commander. The brief moment of vulnerability vanished, replaced by cold, calculating steel.
"Are the Vale convoys already here, Marcus?" Callan asked into the radio.
"Yes, sir," Marcus reported, his voice tight with tension. "It's Victor Vale himself. He has thirty heavily armed men with him. He is demanding you hand over his daughter immediately, or they breach the walls."
Nadine gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. The war had arrived faster than anyone anticipated. The consequences of her actions were now violently knocking on the front gates.
"Will you wait here and lock the door behind me?" Callan asked, looking back at Nadine.
"You can't go down there!" Nadine pleaded in a harsh whisper, stepping forward and instinctively grabbing his forearm. "They will kill you!"
"Do you think an army of cowards can break a fortress built by kings?" Callan asked softly, looking down at her delicate fingers resting against his crisp white shirt.
"They have an army, Callan," Nadine said, dropping his formal title in her panic. "Did I ruin everything? Did I start a war that will destroy this family?"
"Does a man ruin his house by cutting out a cancer?" Callan inquired, a dark, terrifying warmth bleeding into his cold eyes. "Did you not simply force the truth into the light before it could finish my son?"
Nadine swallowed hard, tears welling in her eyes. "Will you come back?"
"Have I ever failed to protect what belongs to me?" Callan asked.
He gently pried her fingers from his arm, giving her hand a brief, reassuring squeeze before turning his broad shoulders toward the door. He slipped out into the hallway, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind him. Nadine immediately threw the deadbolt, pressing her back against the wood, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm alongside the sleeping boy and the loyal dog.
The grand foyer of the Cross estate was a cavernous space of polished marble and soaring archways. Callan descended the sweeping marble staircase with measured, deliberate steps. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the intricate, refined tattoos wrapping around his muscular forearms.
Standing in the center of the foyer, surrounded by six of Callan’s heavily armed enforcers, was Victor Vale. Marietta’s father was a ruthless, aging capo, his face flushed with arrogant rage.
"Where is my daughter, Cross?" Victor demanded, his voice echoing loudly in the cold space. "You cannot hold a Vale hostage in your own home!"
Callan stopped on the final step, towering over the older capo. His cold, perceptive eyes analyzed Victor with clinical detachment.
"Do you believe you give orders in my home, Victor?" Callan asked, his deep voice a low, terrifying rumble.
"Release Marietta right now, or the alliance is dead, and we go to war," Victor spat.
"Are you willing to die for a woman who murders mothers and buries them in my garden?" Callan asked, his jaw settling into a sharp, uncompromising line.
Victor sneered, trying to maintain his bravado. "It was an accident! You are letting a dog and a maid dictate the politics of the entire eastern seaboard!"
"Do you consider the premeditated murder of my wife to be mere politics?" Callan inquired, stepping off the stairs and closing the distance between them until he was mere inches from Victor’s face.
"It's business!" Victor shouted. "And right now, business dictates that you hand her over before I burn this place down!"
"Shall we see how much your business is worth when it is buried in ashes?" Callan asked softly.
He didn't wait for Victor to draw a weapon. Callan moved with blinding speed, his tattooed hand closing like a steel vice around Victor's throat, lifting the older capo off the floor.
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"Did you think I would let you leave this house alive after what your blood did to mine?" Callan asked, his eyes burning with absolute, murderous intent.
The sound of weapons cocking echoed through the foyer, signaling the beginning of a bloody, uncompromising war. Callan stood in the center of the storm, ready to tear the city apart to avenge his wife and protect the new life waiting for him upstairs.
