Chapter 6
The drive back to Corbin’s private penthouse in the city was completely silent. The heavy, armored doors of his SUV sealed them off from the outside world, creating a sanctuary of quiet safety. Juniper had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep in her car seat in the back, her small chest rising and falling in a steady, reassuring rhythm. The tiny inhaler pouch was still strapped securely to her chest.
Corbin gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles stark white. The cinematic sunlight filtering through the tinted windows cast sharp shadows across his handsome, angular face. The image of Tabitha blowing smoke into his daughter's face burned behind his eyes like a physical brand.
He pulled into the secure, subterranean parking garage of his high-rise building. The security guards on duty immediately recognized the vehicle and opened the private gates. Corbin parked, gently unbuckled Juniper, and carried her up the private elevator to the top floor.
The penthouse was a masterpiece of modern, minimalist design, entirely separate from the bloated, oppressive opulence of his father’s estate. It was clean, bright, and utterly secure.
He carried Juniper into her bedroom, laying her gently onto the plush mattress. He carefully removed her sneakers and tucked the heavy duvet securely around her shoulders. He stood by her bed for a long time, watching her sleep, a fierce, primal instinct surging through his veins. He had protected her today, but he knew the family would retaliate. Orson Voss didn't tolerate defection, and Tabitha would demand vengeance for the humiliation she had suffered.
Corbin walked out of the bedroom, leaving the door cracked open slightly, and moved into his expansive home office. The room was dominated by a massive, sleek desk and banks of glowing monitors.
He pulled a heavy, encrypted smartphone from his pocket. It wasn't the phone he used for family business; it was the phone he used for his own private network.
He dialed a secure number. The line rang twice before a deep, professional voice answered.
"Boss," the voice said simply. It was Marcus, Corbin’s head of private security, a man entirely loyal to Corbin, not the Voss patriarch.
"The ceasefire is over, Marcus," Corbin stated, his voice dropping into the icy, lethal register he used for commanding his own forces. "The incident at the estate today crossed the absolute line. Orson threatened to strip my assets, and Tabitha is a direct, active threat to my daughter."
"I heard the chatter on the scanners, Boss," Marcus replied grimly. "Orson has already frozen the primary joint accounts. He’s locking you out of the syndicate's logistics network as we speak."
"Let him," Corbin scoffed quietly, leaning back in his leather chair. "He thinks his money is his power. He doesn't realize I've been silently acquiring the shipping routes and the political leverage for the last three years. The empire he thinks he rules is entirely dependent on the infrastructure I built."
"What are your orders, Boss?" Marcus asked, the sound of a heavy rifle magazine clicking into place echoing over the line.
"Activate Protocol Winter," Corbin commanded smoothly. "Liquidate the shell companies Orson uses to launder the casino money. Reroute the shipping manifests to our private holding firms. I want Orson completely financially paralyzed by tomorrow morning."
"It will be a bloodbath, Boss," Marcus warned. "The old man won't go down without ordering hits."
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"Let him try," Corbin whispered, a dark, merciless smile curling the corners of his lips. "Secure the perimeter around the penthouse. Double the guard on Juniper. If anyone from the family approaches this building, you have authorization to use lethal force. Do we understand each other?"
"Perfectly, Boss," Marcus confirmed. "Consider the Voss empire dismantled."
