Chapter 10
The heavy oak door closed, sealing the chaos outside. The master suite was quiet again, save for the cool night air blowing in through the shattered balcony window, carrying the distant sounds of sirens from the city below.
Duncan walked over to the bed. His suit was ruined, his knuckles bruised, and blood dried on his jawline, but the terrifying aura of the Mafia boss melted away as he looked at Anwen and Leo. He dropped to his knees beside the mattress, his broad, masculine frame softening.
"Are you hurt?" Duncan asked softly, his voice dropping its cold, measured cadence, replacing it with deep, genuine concern.
"No," Anwen breathed, tears of relief finally spilling over her rosy cheeks. She reached out, her trembling fingers gently wiping the blood from his jawline. "We're okay. You came back."
"I told you I would," Duncan murmured, leaning into her touch. He looked at Leo, who was staring at him with wide, frightened blue eyes.
"Did you beat the bad lady, Daddy?" Leo asked, his small voice echoing in the quiet room.
The word Daddy struck Duncan straight in the chest. He reached out, his artistic, negative-space tattoos stark against his fair skin, and gently cupped the back of the boy’s head.
"The bad lady is gone, Leo," Duncan promised softly. "She is never coming back. You and your mommy are safe now. Forever."
Anwen let out a shuddering breath, leaning her forehead against Duncan’s chest. For the first time in three years, she didn't have to hide. She didn't have to fear the shadows or the cruel whims of a wealthy fiancée. The most dangerous man in the city was kneeling on her floor, swearing his absolute devotion to her and their child.
"The Moretti syndicate?" Anwen asked quietly, looking up into his sharp, intimidating eyes.
"Eradicated," Duncan stated, the coldness returning for just a fraction of a second. "The city is ours."
He wrapped his arms around both of them, pulling Anwen and Leo into a fierce, protective embrace. The bright, cinematic colors of the room seemed to warm, the harsh glare of the danger fading into a quiet, hard-won peace.
But as Duncan held his family close, the encrypted cell phone in his pocket vibrated with a harsh, heavy buzz.
He slowly pulled back, retrieving the device. The screen glowed brightly in the dim room, displaying a secure message from a contact he hadn't spoken to in over a decade.
The Moretti patriarch is dead, Duncan. But he sent a package to the Commission before you hit the club. They know about the boy. They are calling a tribunal.
Duncan stared at the screen, his sharply defined jawline locking with sudden, intense tension. The local war had been won, but the national syndicate was now aware of his ultimate vulnerability. His son was a target on a scale he had never faced before.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket and looked at Anwen. The beautiful, former maid saw the shift in his eyes, the sudden darkening of his expression.
"What is it, Duncan?" Anwen asked, her voice trembling slightly.
May you like
Duncan stood up, his thick, wavy hair blowing slightly in the breeze from the broken window. He looked out over the glowing city skyline, a cold, dangerous fire reigniting in his eyes.
"We need to pack," Duncan said, his voice dropping into that terrifying, low, measured cadence. "The real war has just begun."
