Chapter 7
Before Lowell could speak again, the heavy, encrypted radio clipped to his belt crackled to life with sudden, violent static.
"Boss?" Marcus's gruff voice called out over the comms. "We have a major situation at the front gates."
Lowell did not flinch. He slowly pulled his hand away from his glass, his posture instantly shifting back into that of a wartime commander. The brief moment of vulnerability vanished, replaced by cold, calculating steel.
"Are Thaddeus's loyalists already here, Marcus?" Lowell asked into the radio.
"Yes, sir," Marcus reported, his voice tight with tension. "It's old man Falcone. He has thirty heavily armed men with him. He is demanding you hand over Thaddeus immediately, or they breach the walls."
Benedetta gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. The war had arrived faster than anyone anticipated. The consequences of her actions were now violently knocking on the front gates.
"Will you wait here and keep the door locked?" Lowell asked, looking back at Benedetta, setting his glass down.
"You can't go down there!" Benedetta pleaded in a harsh whisper, stepping forward and instinctively grabbing his forearm. "They will kill you!"
"Do you think an army of cowards can break a fortress built by kings?" Lowell asked softly, looking down at her delicate fingers resting against his crisp white shirt.
"They have an army, Lowell," Benedetta said, dropping his formal title in her panic. "Did I ruin everything? Did I start a war that will destroy this family?"
"Does a man ruin his house by cutting out a cancer?" Lowell inquired, a dark, terrifying warmth bleeding into his cold eyes. "Did you not simply force the poison into the light before it could finish me?"
Benedetta swallowed hard, tears welling in her eyes. "Will you come back?"
"Have I ever failed to protect what belongs to me?" Lowell asked.
He gently pried her fingers from his arm, giving her hand a brief, reassuring squeeze before turning his broad shoulders toward the door. He slipped out into the hallway, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind him. Benedetta immediately threw the deadbolt, pressing her back against the wood, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm.
The grand foyer of the Ashford estate was a cavernous space of polished marble and soaring archways, entirely devoid of the warmth present in the master suite above. The cascading crystal chandeliers were unlit, the only illumination coming from the harsh security floodlights outside bleeding through the high, reinforced windows.
Lowell descended the sweeping marble staircase with measured, deliberate steps. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the intricate, refined tattoos wrapping around his muscular forearms.
Standing in the center of the foyer, surrounded by six of Lowell’s heavily armed enforcers, was Falcone. He was a ruthless, aging capo, his face flushed with arrogant rage, his heavy wool overcoat looking out of place amidst the tactical gear of the guards.
"Where is Thaddeus, Ashford?" Falcone demanded, his voice echoing loudly in the cold space. "You cannot hold a senior family member hostage in your own home!"
Lowell stopped on the final step, towering over the older capo. His cold, observant eyes analyzed Falcone with clinical detachment.
"Do you believe you give orders in my home, Falcone?" Lowell asked, his deep voice a low, terrifying rumble.
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"Release Thaddeus right now, or the alliance is dead, and we go to war," Falcone spat, taking a step forward before Marcus’s massive hand slammed into his chest, stopping him dead.
"Are you willing to die for a man who attacks his boss in public?" Lowell asked, his jaw settling into a sharp, uncompromising line.
