Chapter 7
Briony’s heart pounded against her ribs. The quiet intimacy they had shared just moments ago on the tennis court was abruptly shattered by the brutal reality of Kellan’s world. A mafia war was imminent, and the man she loved was standing directly in the crosshairs.
“Kellan, please,” Briony whispered, clutching his arm tightly. “Let me stay with you. I can help. I can bandage the men, I can monitor the radios—”
“Do you truly believe I can focus on slaughtering my enemies if I know you are in the line of fire?” Kellan asked, his deep voice thick with unmasked emotion. He reached out, gently cupping her face with both hands, indifferent to the presence of his lieutenant. “Will you promise me you won’t open that door for anyone except me?”
Tears welled in Briony’s expressive eyes, but she saw the absolute, terrifying resolve in his dark gaze. He was the boss of the syndicate, and he was preparing to go to war.
“I promise,” Briony said softly, her American accent trembling. “Just promise me you’ll come back.”
“Have I ever broken a promise to you, Briony?” Kellan asked, pressing a brief, fierce kiss to her forehead.
He released her, turning immediately to his lieutenant. The tender, protective man vanished, replaced entirely by the cold, calculating apex predator.
“Are the strike teams assembled in the armory?” Kellan asked, walking briskly toward the security wing of the mansion.
“Yes, Boss. We are locking down the perimeter,” the lieutenant confirmed, matching his rapid pace.
Briony watched his broad shoulders disappear down the hallway. She turned and ran up the grand staircase, her black maid dress swishing against the marble steps, until she reached the heavily fortified suite on the third floor. She threw the heavy deadbolts, locking herself inside the quiet, luxurious room, entirely alone with her terror.
Down in the armory, the bright cinematic lighting illuminated rows of heavy weaponry. Dozens of Kellan’s most loyal enforcers were gearing up in tactical vests, their faces grim and determined.
Kellan walked to the center of the room, shedding his tailored vest and rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt to reveal the extensive, intricate tattoos covering his powerful forearms. He strapped a heavy shoulder holster over his chest, checking the magazine of his pistol with practiced, deadly precision.
“Did Cedric provide the Marzanos with the blueprints to the main gates, or did he simply offer them the delivery schedules?” Kellan asked his head of security.
“He gave them the gate codes, Boss,” the security chief answered grimly. “They’re coming through the front.”
“Do they expect us to cower in the mansion and wait for them to breach the doors?” Kellan asked, a cold, ruthless smirk touching his lips.
“They think you’re weak, Boss. They think Cedric broke your morale,” the chief replied.
“Shall we show them exactly how deeply Cedric miscalculated my resolve?” Kellan asked, raising his weapon. “Will you order the men to take positions in the tree line and ambush them before they even reach the driveway?”
The men roared their approval, morale surging at the sight of their boss stepping onto the front lines. They filed out of the armory, disappearing into the dark, manicured grounds of the estate, preparing to spring a lethal trap on the invading force.
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Kellan remained in the armory for a moment, checking the heavy signet ring on his finger. He thought of Briony, safely locked away on the third floor, and the rage inside him crystallized into pure, unstoppable violence.
“Did you truly believe you could take my home, Marzano?” Kellan whispered to the empty room.
