Chapter 10
The heavy, bulletproof glass windows of the penthouse offered a sprawling view of the city below, a sea of bright, cinematic lights stretching into the darkness. But inside the suite, the atmosphere was thick with the anticipation of war.
Roman moved away from Nora and walked toward a massive mahogany bookshelf on the far wall. He reached behind a leather-bound volume and pressed a hidden mechanism. With a soft, hydraulic hiss, the bookshelf slid open, revealing a hidden, walk-in armory bathed in stark white light. Racks of automatic weapons, tactical gear, and loaded magazines lined the walls.
He stripped off his tailored suit jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair, revealing his broad shoulders and the holsters strapped over his crisp white dress shirt. He methodically began loading magazines into his tactical belt, his artistic hand tattoos a blur of refined, deadly motion.
Nora watched him, clutching Sophie tightly against her side. The three-year-old had finally noticed the shift in tension and was burying her face in her mother's simple blouse.
"Roman," Nora said, her voice echoing softly in the large room. "What are you going to do?"
Roman grabbed a matte-black assault rifle from the rack, pulling the charging handle back with a sharp, metallic clack that sounded incredibly loud in the quiet suite. He slung the weapon over his shoulder and turned back to face her.
"I am going to eradicate them," Roman stated. He spoke slowly, the controlled pauses emphasizing his absolute certainty. "Every Petrov soldier. Every lieutenant. Every safe house. By sunrise, their syndicate will be nothing but ash."
"You're going out there yourself?" Nora asked, her heart hammering with renewed fear. "You're the Boss. Send your men! If they kill you tonight, Sophie and I..."
"They will not kill me," Roman interrupted gently, walking back over to them. He looked down at the two women who anchored his entire soul. "I have something to live for now."
He reached down and gently cupped Sophie’s rosy cheek. "Be a good, brave girl for your mother, little bird. I will be back before you wake up."
"Okay, Daddy," Sophie whispered, her blue eyes wide.
Roman stood up and looked at Nora. "Lock the heavy doors. Do not open them for anyone except Rafe. If the building is breached, there is a panic room behind the master closet. Wait for me there."
Before Nora could respond, the secure phone on Roman’s tactical belt vibrated frantically. He unclipped it and brought it to his ear.
"Boss," Rafe’s voice shouted over the line, the sound of automatic gunfire popping sharply in the background. "They didn't go to the apartment! The Petrovs knew they missed their window! They brought the hit squad straight here! We have multiple armed vehicles breaching the front gates!"
Roman’s eyes went completely cold. The intimidating, sharp danger in his gaze flared into an inferno. The war hadn't waited for him to mobilize. It had arrived at his front door.
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"Hold the line," Roman commanded into the phone, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "I'm coming down."
He looked at Nora one last time, the charming, romantic look completely replaced by the brutal reality of a Mafia king going to war. He turned on his heel and strode out of the penthouse, the heavy doors slamming shut behind him, leaving his family locked in the tower as the sounds of battle began to echo up from the courtyard below.
