Chapter 11
The interior of the heavily armored SUV was a sanctuary of quiet, climate-controlled peace. The bright, cinematic city lights flashed past the tinted windows, casting a rhythmic, luminous glow over Emily Moretti’s flawless, fair features. She sat in the spacious back seat, her tailored dark travel suit dusted with the remnants of her violent reclamation of the estate. Six-year-old Ethan was curled tightly against her side, wrapped securely in her expensive suit jacket. He was fast asleep, exhausted by the trauma of his captivity and the sudden, overwhelming rescue.
Marcus, the towering, broad-shouldered capo, sat in the passenger seat, his eyes constantly scanning the perimeter. "We have secured the penthouse suite, Boss," Marcus reported, his American accent low and respectful. "Dr. Silva is waiting on the top floor. The estate has been completely locked down by our most loyal operators. No one enters or leaves without your direct authorization."
"Excellent," Emily murmured, her voice a soft, vibrating hum that wouldn't disturb her sleeping son. "Ensure that Patricia is confined to her quarters. She is not to have access to any communication devices. The old guard ends tonight."
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"And the prisoners in the basement?" Marcus asked, referring to Ryan and his mistress.
"Let them sit in the dark," Emily stated, her cold, intimidating eyes narrowing into lethal slits. "Let them contemplate the absolute ruin of their empire. I will deal with them when I am ready."
