Chapter 6
The bodyguards moved instantly, grabbing Helena roughly by the arms and hauling the hysterical, screaming matriarch out of the reception hall. Her desperate pleas echoed down the marble corridors, fading into a distant, pathetic wail before the heavy oak doors finally sealed shut.
Dante stood alone in the center of the ruined reception, the bright cinematic sunlight casting long, sharp shadows across the floor. He adjusted the cuffs of his dark three-piece suit, his breathing returning to a slow, controlled rhythm. The infection had been violently purged from his house, but the underlying vulnerability remained.
"Boss," Silas said quietly, stepping back into the room holding a secure tablet. "The accounts are draining. The southern capos have been informed of the leadership change. There is some minor grumbling, but no one is officially challenging the decree."
"They are waiting to see if I am weakened by removing her," Dante deduced, his sharp, intimidating eyes narrowing. "They are testing the water."
"There is something else, Dante," Silas hesitated, his American accent tight with tension. He handed the tablet over. "While we were securing Helena’s private encrypted files, we found communication logs. She wasn't just terrorizing the girl for discipline. She was negotiating."
Dante took the tablet, his tattooed fingers swiping across the bright screen. He read the decrypted transcripts, his sharply defined jawline ticking with absolute fury.
Helena had been communicating with the Moretti syndicate—their largest and most violent rival on the eastern seaboard. The transcripts detailed a horrific, meticulously planned transaction. Helena had agreed to hand over control of the southern ports to the Morettis in exchange for their military support in a coup against Dante.
But the final line of the transcript was the one that made Dante’s blood run completely cold.
“The child will be delivered to you as leverage. Keep her alive until Dante signs the transfer papers, then dispose of her.”
"She was going to sell my daughter to our enemies," Dante whispered. The volume of his voice was so low it barely registered above the ambient hum of the room, yet it carried the terrifying weight of an impending massacre.
"The extraction was scheduled for tomorrow night, Boss," Silas confirmed, his face pale. "The Morettis were going to send a strike team to the estate under the cover of the anniversary dinner."
Dante slowly handed the tablet back. He didn't explode into anger. The veteran Mafia boss retreated into a state of chilling, absolute tactical clarity.
"They believed my house was divided," Dante said softly, walking toward the grand staircase that led to the upper floors. "They believed I was blind to the treason occurring under my own roof."
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"What are your orders, Dante?" Silas asked, drawing his weapon and checking the magazine.
"Lock down the estate," Dante commanded, not looking back. "Arm every man on the payroll. We are not waiting for them to strike tomorrow. We are taking the war to them tonight."
