Chapter 5
The heavy elevator doors chimed once more, and four men in tailored dark suits stepped into the garage, moving with the quiet, lethal discipline of seasoned soldiers.
At their front walked Cassian—six-foot-four, broad-shouldered, with a scarred jaw and cold, intelligent eyes. In his right hand, he carried a heavy medical trauma bag; beneath his unbuttoned overcoat, the matte-black grip of a customized submachine gun rested against his ribs.
"Boss," Cassian said, his voice a low rumble as he took in the carnage with a single glance.
"Take Sienna up to the private clinic on the third floor," Nico ordered, never raising his voice. He shifted his daughter gently into Cassian's waiting arms. "Have Dr. Bennett prep the surgical suite for an emergency delivery. If my grandson suffers a single complication, I will burn the entire eastern seaboard."
"On my life, Don Ferrante," Cassian said, cradling Sienna against his chest as the young woman groaned through another blinding contraction.
Sienna reached out, her trembling, sweat-slicked fingers catching Nico’s lapel. "Dad... Mila. Don't leave Mila down here."
Nico leaned down, kissing her damp temple. "Your daughter is safe with me, Sienna. Focus on your son. Bring my blood into this world."
Cassian turned and carried Sienna swiftly into the elevator, followed by two armed guards.
Nico walked over to the pillar, scooped three-year-old Mila into the crook of his left arm, and pulled her tight against his chest. The little girl rested her chin on his shoulder, her tear-stained face hidden in his thick, neatly styled hair.
Nico turned his cold gaze back to the three Coles.
Gavin was on his feet now, backed against the ruined tire rack, his hands trembling as he tried to wipe the blood from his tailored suit. Marjorie stood beside him, clutching her son's arm like a drowning woman grasping at driftwood, while Sabrina sat on the floor among the spilled cleaning chemicals, weeping hysterically through her broken lip.
"Nico, listen to me!" Marjorie pleaded, her aristocratic voice cracking into shrill desperation. "Gavin was manipulated! The Morellos threatened his life! They said if he didn't secure the port access codes through Sienna's trust, they would execute him in his office!"
"She's lying, Dad!" Gavin yelled, turning on his own mother with wild, cornered panic. "It was her idea! She set up the meeting in Atlantic City! She said the Ferrantes were treating us like second-class citizens, that we deserved half the northern terminals!"
"You cowardly little bastard!" Sabrina shrieked from the floor, throwing a cracked plastic bottle at her brother's feet. "You dragged us into this! You told me Sienna would just miscarry and sign the papers in the hospital! You never said anything about a hit squad coming to the house!"
Nico listened to them tear each other apart with the detached patience of an executioner waiting for the rain to stop.
He reached down with his free hand, picked up Gavin’s glowing smartphone from the concrete, and unlocked the device using Gavin’s face recognition before the younger man could look away. He scrolled through the encrypted messages, his thumb moving with slow, methodical precision.
"Four million dollars wired to an offshore shell in the Caymans," Nico read aloud, his voice dropping an octave, echoing off the high ceiling. "Signed by Julian Morello. Dated three days ago. The delivery terms specify: The elimination of the Ferrante heir prior to birth, followed by the transfer of the deep-water docking rights."
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Nico slipped the phone into his pocket and looked Gavin dead in the eyes.
"You traded my daughter's life and the life of my unborn grandson for four million dollars," Nico said softly. "You are not a man, Gavin. You are a cancer."
