Chapter 13
Camille’s father, a powerful associate seated near the middle of the table, suddenly stood up. His rosy face was flushed with a mixture of fear and paternal instinct. "Damian, wait! She made a mistake! Let me take her home. We will annul the engagement immediately. We will compensate you—"
Damian raised his tattooed hand, silencing the older man instantly.
"The engagement is canceled," Damian agreed, his voice a low, terrifying rumble. "But she does not leave this house."
"You can't touch her!" Camille's father yelled, panic setting in. "If you harm my daughter, the southern families will revolt! It will mean war!"
Damian slowly turned his head to look at the older man. The cold, sharp intensity of his eyes paralyzed the entire table.
"A war," Damian repeated softly, as if savoring the word. "You threaten me with a war over a woman who tortured my bloodline."
He signaled to Marcus with a subtle nod. The room erupted into sudden, highly coordinated motion. A dozen heavily armed Whitmore bodyguards stepped out from the perimeter, raising suppressed automatic weapons. The red laser sights painted the chests of Camille's father and his accompanying capos.
The rival family froze, their hands hovering uselessly near their own concealed weapons. They were entirely outgunned and outmaneuvered in a matter of seconds.
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"There will be no war," Damian stated smoothly, walking slowly toward Camille's father. "Because I am absorbing your territories tonight. Your men will swear loyalty to my syndicate, or they will die where they stand."
He stopped beside the older man, his imposing, masculine presence projecting absolute, unyielding dominance. "Take him to the basement," Damian ordered his men. "Extract all access codes for the southern ports. And then dispose of him."
