Chapter 6
The walk to Silas’s private study was a quiet, heavy procession through the sprawling mansion. The bright, airy luminosity of the dining hall transitioned into a deeply comforting, amber-lit warmth in the study. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, leather armchairs, and a large stone fireplace crackling with fresh wood provided a safe haven from the chaos they had just unleashed.
Silas guided Nora to one of the plush armchairs. He moved with a restrained grace, his masculine presence anchoring the room. He walked over to a crystal decanter resting on a side table and poured a small measure of amber liquid into a glass, handing it to her before taking a seat opposite her.
The heavy oak door suddenly swung open, and three of Silas’s top lieutenants entered the room. They were hardened men, dressed in dark suits, their expressions grim. They stopped short when they saw the maid sitting in the boss's personal sanctuary, but a sharp glance from Silas kept them silent on the matter.
“Are our perimeter defenses fully operational, gentlemen?” Silas asked, leaning back in his leather chair.
“Yes, Boss,” the lead underboss, a man named Vance, replied. “But we have a problem. Daphne’s personal driver saw us dragging her downstairs. He bolted before we could lock the gates. He’s definitely calling Marcus Whitmore right now.”
“Did we honestly expect to keep her disappearance a secret for long?” Silas asked, steepling his tattooed fingers together.
“Marcus won't negotiate, Silas,” Vance warned, using the boss's first name in the privacy of the war council. “If he finds out you caged his daughter over a maid’s haircut, he’ll view it as the ultimate disrespect. He’ll bring every gun he has to our gates.”
“Do you assume I am unprepared for a siege, Vance?” Silas asked, his deep voice unwavering.
Nora sat frozen in her armchair, her hands wrapped tightly around the crystal glass. Her fair, rosy skin was pale with terror. She was the catalyst for a war that would undoubtedly leave bodies in the streets.
“It’s not just the siege, Boss. It’s the Commission,” another lieutenant added. “You broke a sanctioned engagement. If we strike first, we might lose the backing of the northern families.”
“Are we going to sit in this room and tremble at the thought of Marcus Whitmore, or are we going to mobilize the strike teams?” Silas asked, sitting forward, his sharp jaw locked in determination.
“You want to strike first?” Vance asked, his eyes widening.
“Would you prefer we wait politely for them to burn this mansion to the ground?” Silas asked, rising to his feet. “Will you assemble the men in the armory and prepare the armored vehicles?”
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“Yes, Boss,” Vance nodded, realizing the decision was final. The men filed out of the room, leaving Silas and Nora alone once more in the quiet warmth of the study.
“Are you terrified of the life I lead, Nora?” Silas asked softly, turning to look at her trembling frame.
