Chapter 10
The question hung in the cool night air, heavy with a lethal promise. Marcus Whitlock sneered, his finger tightening on the trigger of his weapon.
“You’re bluffing, Damon. You don’t have the manpower to survive a shootout with my family,” Marcus spat, though a flicker of doubt crossed his hardened face.
“Do you truly wish to die on my driveway tonight, Marcus?” Damon asked, his voice dropping into a register that sent a chill down the spines of the men standing near the gates.
Damon raised his right hand, the artistic tattoos on his fingers clearly visible in the luminous spill of light from the mansion. He snapped his fingers—a single, sharp sound that echoed like a gunshot.
Instantly, the dark treeline surrounding the Whitlock vehicles lit up. A dozen red laser sights cut through the night, painting the chests and heads of Marcus and his front-line men. The soft elegant warmth of the mansion’s lighting contrasted violently with the tactical precision of the snipers Damon had secretly positioned in the woods an hour prior.
Marcus froze. The men behind the SUVs slowly lowered their weapons, realizing they had walked into a meticulously orchestrated kill box.
“Did you think I secured this estate with only the men standing beside me?” Damon asked, his angular face illuminated by a gentle golden highlight as he smiled a cold, ruthless smile.
“You’re crazy,” Marcus whispered, the color draining from his face as a red dot rested squarely over his heart. “If you kill me, the Commission will hunt you down. You can’t kill a boss over a maid!”
“Are you under the illusion that the Commission cares about a man foolish enough to march onto another boss’s territory and threaten his life?” Damon asked, taking another slow step down the marble stairs.
From the balcony above, Naomi watched in stunned silence. The man she loved had trapped the most dangerous family in the city, entirely for her. She touched the empty gold locket resting against her collar, a profound sense of awe washing over her grief.
“Bring her out,” Marcus gritted his teeth, his voice trembling slightly. “Just give me Sabine, and we leave. No blood.”
“Will you agree to a permanent dissolution of our alliance, and forfeit all territorial claims on the south side of the city as compensation for her life?” Damon asked, dictating the terms of surrender with absolute authority.
Marcus looked at the red lasers surrounding his men. He had no leverage. He nodded slowly, his pride entirely shattered.
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“Will someone fetch Sabine from the holding cells and toss her out the front gates?” Damon asked his lieutenant without turning around.
The standoff held, the tension vibrating in the air like a plucked string. Damon stood tall, a king defending his castle, as the heavy wooden doors of the mansion creaked open behind him. The war had been paused, but as Sabine was dragged out, screaming and ruined, Damon knew the peace would not last forever. But looking up at the balcony, seeing the beautiful, gentle maid watching him, he knew every drop of blood that would eventually spill was worth it.
