Chapter 10
Adrian tapped a sequence of numbers into his phone, his thumb pressing the screen with calculated precision. He raised the device to his ear, his cold, sharp eyes scanning the bright, colorful maternity suite, ensuring every corner was completely secure. The line clicked open.
"Boss," a deep, rough voice answered on the other end. It was Vincent, Adrian’s fiercely loyal underboss.
"Lock down the hospital," Adrian commanded, his volume low and perfectly measured. "I want fifty men forming a perimeter around this building. No one enters. No one leaves without my express permission."
"Understood. Are we under attack?" Vincent asked, the sound of movement echoing in the background.
"We are purging," Adrian replied, his voice dropping an octave into a terrifying, raspy growl. "Carlo Rossi is a traitor. He orchestrated an attempted abduction of my son. He is currently mobilizing for a coup."
There was a fraction of a second of dead silence on the line before Vincent’s voice returned, devoid of shock and filled only with violent resolve. "Give the order, Adrian."
"Find Carlo. Find every single capo, soldier, and associate loyal to his faction. I do not care if they are at home, at church, or in the middle of a crowded restaurant," Adrian said slowly, the controlled pauses between his words dripping with absolute lethality. "Execute them all. Burn his businesses to the ground. Leave absolutely nothing left of his name."
"It will be done by sunset, Boss," Vincent promised.
Adrian ended the call and slipped the phone back into his tailored suit pocket. He turned his imposing, masculine frame back toward the center of the room.
Margaret was weeping uncontrollably in the vinyl chair, her ruined, expensive blouse clinging to her shaking shoulders. She looked at her son, realizing the catastrophic bloodbath her arrogance had just unleashed upon the city.
"Adrian, please," Margaret begged, her voice a pathetic whisper. "I didn't know. I was only trying to help you. What are you going to do to me?"
Adrian looked at the woman who had given him life. His expression was a mask of cold, unyielding stone. He did not yell. He did not strike her. The punishment he had designed was far more permanent.
"You are going to walk out of this hospital," Adrian said quietly. "You are going to go to your home, pack a single bag, and you are going to leave this country. You will never contact me, my wife, or my son ever again. If you ever set foot in my city, I will treat you exactly as I am treating Carlo Rossi."
"You are exiling me?!" Margaret shrieked, panic overriding her fear. "I am your mother! I am the matriarch of this family!"
"You are nothing," Adrian whispered, turning his back on her completely. He looked at the two bodyguards standing at the door. "Escort her to the airport. Do not let her out of your sight until the plane is in the air."
The guards moved instantly, grabbing Margaret by the arms and dragging the hysterical, weeping woman out of the bright, cinematic room. The heavy door clicked shut behind them, sealing the suite in a sudden, profound quiet.
Linda let out a long, shuddering breath, her hands shaking as she stood by her daughter's bed. "Is it over, Adrian?"
Adrian walked back to the maternity bed, his polished leather shoes silent on the tile. He looked down at Emma, who was staring up at him with wide, tear-filled blue eyes, clutching their beautiful, fair-skinned baby boy to her chest. The dark pigment was entirely gone, leaving only the truth of their family.
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"The immediate threat is over," Adrian murmured softly, reaching down to gently kiss Emma’s forehead, then pressing a tender kiss to the crown of his newborn son's head. He stood up straight, adjusting the cuffs of his dark suit, his cold eyes looking out the massive window toward the city skyline.
"But the war," Adrian whispered, the dangerous, measured tone returning to his raspy voice, "is only just beginning."
