Chapter 6
"Take them," Domenico commanded softly, rising to his full height.
The bodyguards did not hesitate. They moved in unison, hauling Genevieve and Adrian roughly to their feet. Adrian groaned, clutching his ribs where Domenico had thrown him, while Genevieve shrieked, her expensive formal gown tearing as they dragged her across the ruined reception floor.
"Domenico, you can't!" Genevieve wailed, her fair skin pale with absolute terror. "I am your father's sister! You cannot kill your own blood in front of the entire family! The commission will not allow it!"
Domenico stood perfectly still, his hands resting casually at his sides. He looked at the surrounding capos, the men who had sworn loyalty to him. None of them moved to defend the traitors. The audio recording had severed any lingering sympathy.
"The commission does not dictate what happens in my house," Domenico replied, his volume incredibly low but echoing with finality. "And you ceased to be my blood the moment you struck my daughter."
He looked at his second-in-command, a hardened man named Marcus.
"Take them to the soundproof holding cells beneath the east wing," Domenico instructed. "Bind them. Strip them of their phones and jewelry. Do not let them speak to each other. I want them entirely isolated until I decide how publicly I am going to dismantle them."
"Yes, Boss," Marcus nodded sharply, gesturing for the guards to move.
"You're a dead man, Domenico!" Adrian spat, desperation finally giving way to a futile, cornered rage as he was dragged toward the heavy mahogany doors. "Chicago knows about the plan! If we don't check in tonight, they will send a strike team! You can't fight an entire syndicate!"
"I look forward to their arrival," Domenico whispered to himself as the doors slammed shut behind the screaming traitors.
The room was left in a state of chaotic ruin. The cinematic, bright sunlight continued to pour in, highlighting the shattered glass and broken flowers. Domenico adjusted his tailored vest, his breathing completely even.
"Clear the room," Domenico announced to the remaining guests and capos. "The reception is concluded. Return to your homes. Anyone who speaks of what occurred here today will answer directly to me."
A hurried, silent exodus began. The elite society understood the violent shift in the atmosphere and fled the estate, desperate to avoid the impending war. Within ten minutes, the grand reception hall was entirely empty, save for Domenico and a dozen heavily armed loyalists.
"Boss," Marcus said, stepping back into the room. "The prisoners are secured in the basement. But Adrian was right about one thing. The Chicago syndicate was expecting that money tomorrow. When they realize the coup failed, they will move against us."
"Let them," Domenico replied, walking slowly toward the grand staircase. "I want the estate locked down immediately. Double the perimeter guard. Arm every man with heavy weaponry. Cut the exterior lighting. If Chicago wants a war, we will give them a slaughter."
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"Understood," Marcus nodded, immediately pulling his secure radio to relay the orders.
Dante walked up the marble stairs, the heavy, intimidating presence of the Mafia boss softening only slightly as he headed toward his private suite. He had secured the perimeter, but he needed to ensure his daughter felt safe before the real violence began.
