Chapter 10
Dawn broke over the gray expanse of the North Atlantic like a bruise of pale violet and cold steel.
The Valkyrie sliced through the heavy ocean swells fifty miles south of the city, its wake foaming white and violent against the dark green water. The storm had passed, leaving behind a bitter, pristine chill and the sharp scent of open ocean.
Hector stood on the upper bridge deck, his hands resting on the polished stainless-steel rail.
He had changed out of his bloodstained evening clothes into a clean black wool turtleneck and heavy trousers, but the antique signet ring still gleamed on his right hand, and the leather holster remained strapped beneath his left arm. The sea wind whipped his dark hair back from his scarred brow.
Cassian stepped up the stairs, carrying two ceramic mugs of black coffee. He handed one to Hector.
"Julian and Odette are secured in the lower hold," Cassian said quietly. "What do we do with them when we dock in Boston?"
Hector took a slow sip of the scalding coffee, staring out at the endless horizon where the gray sky met the sea.
"Julian’s father was a loyal man," Hector said, his voice quiet, devoid of anger. "He died protecting my father in ninety-two. Out of respect for his father's blood, Julian gets a trial before the Old Council. If they vote to hang him, they hang him themselves. If they don't, I’ll do it with my bare hands."
"And Odette?"
Hector’s eyes narrowed into slits. "Put her on a cargo freighter bound for an offshore oil rig in the North Sea. Give her fifty dollars, a winter coat, and tell her that if she ever speaks Maiselle’s name again, I’ll hunt down every living member of her family tree."
Cassian nodded grimly. "Understood, Boss."
The cabin door behind them opened with a faint click.
Maiselle stepped out onto the sunlit deck, bundled tightly in Hector’s oversized wool overcoat, the hem dragging behind her like a royal train. Her small face was clean, her rosy cheeks kissed by the crisp morning air, her dark curls dancing in the wind.
In her tiny hands, she carried the gold pocket watch.
"Daddy," she called out, her voice clear and sweet against the roar of the diesel engines.
Hector’s entire demeanor softened instantly. The ruthless mafia don vanished, replaced by a father whose universe began and ended with the little girl in front of him. He set his coffee mug down and knelt on the teak deck, opening his arms.
Maiselle ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. Hector lifted her up, holding her securely against his chest as he turned back toward the ocean.
"Look, Maisie," Hector pointed toward the rising sun breaking through the distant clouds. "The sun is coming up."
Maiselle looked out at the glittering water, her eyes wide with wonder. Then, she held up the gold pocket watch, offering it back to him.
"I counted to five hundred, Daddy," she whispered proudly. "And then I counted to five hundred again."
"You did good, sweetheart," Hector said, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "You kept it safe for me."
"Daddy?" Maiselle asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she looked back toward the wake of the boat. "Are we going home?"
Hector looked back over his shoulder toward the distant, invisible coastline of the city—a city where his mansion lay burned, where his closest associates were choosing sides in a brewing civil war, and where Don Carmine was mobilizing an army to finish what he started.
May you like
Hector pulled his daughter closer, resting his chin against her hair, his hand tightening around the cold steel rail.
"Not yet, Maisie," Hector said quietly, his voice hard as iron, his gaze locked on the gray waters ahead. "First, Daddy has to finish packing their bags."
