Chapter 10
Ryan’s eyes darkened instantly. The cold, sharp, intimidating look returned to his face, hardening his angular jawline. The Rossi family was the most brutal, bloodthirsty rival syndicate on the East Coast. If Marco had been communicating with them, the betrayal went far deeper than a simple domestic coup.
What did the message say? Ryan typed back rapidly with his thumb.
The response came through a few seconds later.
It said: ‘The package is secured. We transfer the asset to you tonight. Prepare the offshore accounts.’
Ryan stared at the glowing screen, his blood turning to ice. Marco and Mara hadn't just hidden Ava to protect their status in the family. They were planning to sell her. They were going to traffic his firstborn daughter to his greatest enemy as a hostage, a bargaining chip to force Ryan to surrender his territory.
"Emily," Ryan said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly measured hum.
"Yes, Mr. Carter?" Emily asked, sensing the immediate, dangerous shift in the atmosphere.
"Take the girls up to the master suite. Lock the reinforced doors. Arm the security system," Ryan commanded. "Do not open the door for anyone except me. Not even the guards."
"Understood, sir," Emily said, her face paling as she took Ava gently from his arms and took Lily by the hand. "Come along, girls. Time for a bath and a warm bed."
"Are you leaving again, Daddy?" Ava asked, her blue eyes looking back at him with sudden fear.
"Just for a little while, little bird," Ryan promised, forcing a calm, reassuring smile onto his face. "I have to go clean up the rest of the mess. I will be right upstairs when I am done."
As soon as the heavy doors of the office clicked shut, securing his children, Ryan reached into his desk drawer. He pulled out a heavy, matte-black suppressed pistol, racking the slide with a sharp, metallic clack. He tucked the weapon into his shoulder holster, adjusting his open-collar white dress shirt.
He walked out of the office and headed straight for the basement interrogation room.
When he pushed the heavy steel door open, Marco was zip-tied to a metal chair in the center of the dark room, groaning as the bright overhead light flickered on. Marco’s face was a ruined, bloody mess from Ryan's earlier strike.
"Marco," Ryan said softly, his polished leather shoes echoing against the concrete floor.
"Dom, please," Marco wheezed, coughing up blood. "I'll leave the city. You'll never see me again."
"You messaged the Rossis," Ryan stated, his voice a freezing void. "You were going to sell my daughter to my enemies."
Marco’s eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated terror. "It was Mara's idea! We needed the cash to start our own faction! The Rossis promised us the southern ports!"
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"The Rossis," Ryan whispered, drawing the pistol from his holster. "Are going to burn."
Ryan raised the weapon. The war for the city had just been ignited by the very people who were supposed to protect his family. He squeezed the trigger, ensuring Marco’s treason was permanently silenced. He turned and walked out of the basement, ready to unleash hell upon the entire East Coast to protect the daughter he had just found.
