Chapter 8
The remaining three Warren enforcers froze in their tracks. The speed and brutality of Adrian’s retaliation had entirely shattered their aggressive momentum. They stared at the unconscious body of their leader bleeding onto the pristine marble floor, then looked up at the terrifyingly composed mafia boss standing before them.
Estelle stumbled backward, her hand flying to her mouth in absolute shock. The sculpted satin of her gown snagged on the edge of a champagne velvet chair, but she didn't notice. "Shoot him!" she screamed hysterically. "What are you waiting for? Kill him!"
The guards hesitated, their hands hovering over their concealed weapons. Drawing a gun on Adrian Lockwood in the heart of his own mansion was a guaranteed death sentence, alliance or no alliance.
"Do you believe my men are not currently aiming at the backs of your heads?" Adrian asked, his voice maintaining its quiet, measured cadence, entirely unbothered by the chaos unfolding around him.
The three men slowly turned their heads toward the open walnut doors.
Standing in the hallway, completely silent, were half a dozen of Adrian’s personal guards. They held suppressed automatic weapons, the laser sights casting small, deadly red dots across the chests and foreheads of Estelle's men. Adrian's men had moved like phantoms, securing the perimeter the moment the first shout had echoed from the dining room.
"Are you going to draw your weapons now?" Adrian inquired, his cold, observant eyes fixed on the Warren guards.
The enforcers slowly, deliberately raised their hands into the air, stepping away from the table and submitting to the overwhelming force. Adrian’s men stepped into the room, swiftly disarming the three guards and dragging them, along with their unconscious leader, out into the hallway.
The heavy walnut doors were pulled shut once more, leaving the dining room in a suffocating, terrifying quiet.
Estelle stood entirely alone. The grand alliance, her father's army, her undeniable power—it had all evaporated in less than three minutes. She looked at Adrian, her fair, rosy skin pale and drawn, her diamond earrings suddenly looking like cheap glass.
"You're a dead man, Adrian," Estelle whispered, her voice completely hollow. "My father will not let this go. You have started a war you cannot finish."
"Do you truly believe your father is unaware of what is happening here tonight?" Adrian asked softly.
Estelle blinked, her brow furrowing in deep confusion. "What are you talking about?"
Adrian reached into the inner pocket of his tailored dark suit. He pulled out a sleek, encrypted mobile phone. The screen was illuminated, showing an active, ongoing phone call. He had dialed the number the moment the guests had left the room.
"Did you think I would allow a woman who abuses my staff and manipulates my son to maintain a position of power in my syndicate?" Adrian asked, holding the phone up so Estelle could see the screen.
The name displayed in bright white letters on the screen was Don Warren.
"Father?" Estelle gasped, stepping forward, her hands trembling violently.
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Adrian did not put the phone on speaker. He simply held it to his ear, his cold eyes locked onto his former fiancé.
"Is your daughter's life worth the southern ports, Victor?" Adrian asked into the receiver, his voice dropping to a terrifying, absolute zero.
