Chapter 7
The word "protection" echoed off the gilded wall panels, freezing the blood of the fifty guests gathered around the tables. The bright, luminous colors of the dining room seemed to drain away, leaving only the stark, horrifying reality of Leona’s impending downfall. To claim a servant was under his personal protection elevated Iris from a mere employee to a highly guarded asset of the syndicate.
"Protection?" Leona spat, her aristocratic features twisting into an ugly mask of pure, unadulterated venom. The sheer panic had finally given way to a desperate, cornered fury. "She is a maid, Elliot! You are going to break an alliance that took two years to build over a girl who scrubs your floors? My father brings the entire southern smuggling route to this table!"
"Are you under the impression that I require your father’s routes to maintain my empire, Leona?" Elliot asked calmly, stopping just inches from her velvet dining chair.
"You need us!" Leona screamed, slamming her manicured hands down on the gold-rimmed porcelain, rattling her crystal wine glass. "Without the Cross family, the border factions will tear you apart! You are making a catastrophic mistake! You are choosing a whore over a queen!"
Elliot’s jaw locked. The extremely short stubble on his face bristled as he absorbed the insult directed at the woman cowering behind him. He did not raise his voice. He did not reach for a weapon. His restraint was a masterclass in terror.
"Do you believe a queen commands respect through fear and iron cuffs?" Elliot inquired softly.
He slowly swept his gaze across the room, taking in the numerous capos, donors, and relatives sitting frozen at the long banquet table. His eyes locked onto Marcus, his most trusted lieutenant.
"Have you all finished your meals?" Elliot asked the room at large.
It was phrased as a polite question, but the command hidden within it was unmistakable and absolute.
Chairs scraped violently against the polished marble floors as the fifty guests practically scrambled to their feet. There were no polite farewells, no lingering handshakes. Men in tailored suits and women in expensive evening gowns fled the bright, elegant room with frantic urgency, eager to escape the blast radius of Elliot Crowne’s wrath.
"What are you doing?!" Leona shrieked, watching her audience, her leverage, and her protection sprint for the mahogany doors. "You can't just dismiss them! My family's capos are in this room!"
The men loyal to the Cross family did not stay. They took one look at the cold, calculating fury in Elliot's eyes and the armed men loyal to the Crowne syndicate stepping out from the shadows, and they ran just as fast as the civilians.
Within ninety seconds, the expansive dining hall was completely empty, save for Elliot, Leona, Iris, Owen, and four heavily armed Crowne bodyguards.
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The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut, sealing the room and locking Leona inside with her greatest nightmare.
"Did you truly believe you could run a psychological and physical torture operation against my bloodline and remain seated at my table?" Elliot asked, turning his terrifying focus entirely back to the woman in the burgundy gown.
