Chapter 6
Odessa’s fair, rosy face turned the color of wet ash. She recognized the terrifying, dead-eyed look on her cousin's face—it was the exact same look he gave rival bosses right before he ordered their executions. Driven by a desperate, irrational need to survive, she lost all sense of self-preservation.
"It wasn't my idea!" Odessa screamed, pointing a shaking, manicured finger toward the unconscious Grant. "It was Grant! He brokered the deal! The Petrov syndicate wanted leverage against you! They said if we delivered the girl, they would back our claim to the northern ports! We were going to run the city, Luciano!"
"You were going to hand my four-year-old daughter. To a cartel," Luciano stated, his voice a low, lethal hum that vibrated through the silent room.
"They promised they wouldn't hurt her!" Odessa cried, tears of pure, unadulterated terror streaming down her cheeks. "They just wanted to hold her until you signed over the territories! I swear to God, Luciano, I didn't want her to die!"
"You wanted my throne," Luciano corrected smoothly. "And you were willing to trade my child's life for it."
He turned his attention away from the weeping woman and looked at the crowd of stunned capos and guests. The elite white American adults, the seasoned veterans of the underworld, were staring at the scene in absolute, paralyzed horror.
"Does anyone else," Luciano asked, his deep, elegant voice carrying effortlessly across the vast space, "have an opinion regarding the safety of my daughter?"
No one spoke. Several high-ranking capos, men who had previously grumbled about Luciano's strict new operational directives, actively averted their eyes, staring down at the polished wood floor. The brutal, physical dismantling of Grant and Odessa, combined with the horrifying revelation of their treason, had erased any lingering doubts about Luciano's capacity for violence.
"Good," Luciano murmured, a terrifyingly cold smile touching the corner of his lips.
He looked at Marcus, his most trusted bodyguard.
"Marcus," Luciano commanded. "Take them. Put them in the basement holding cells. Zip-tie them to the chairs. Do not give them food. Do not give them water. I will be down shortly to have a very long, very quiet conversation with my cousins."
"Yes, Boss!" Marcus responded, moving with eager, violent precision.
He and another guard grabbed the sobbing, hysterical Odessa by her torn formal gown, hauling her roughly to her feet. Two other men dragged the bleeding, groaning Grant from the wreckage of the fencing-mask rack. The traitors were dragged out of the bright, cinematic light of the exhibition hall, their panicked screams echoing down the corridor until the heavy doors slammed shut.
Luciano stood perfectly still in the center of the destruction. His tailored dark three-piece suit was immaculate, his posture radiating absolute, terrifying dominance. He slowly turned his head and looked at Mabel.
The four-year-old was standing exactly where he had left her, clutching her small, empty formal purse. Her rosy cheeks were stained with tears, but she was watching her father with wide, trusting blue eyes.
Luciano walked slowly toward her. He dropped to one knee, bringing himself down to her eye level. The cold, sharp intimidation in his eyes vanished entirely. When he looked at Mabel, his gaze softened into profound, aching tenderness.
"I am here, Mabel," Luciano whispered, his low voice a soothing, rhythmic rumble. "The bad people are gone. They will never shout at you again. You are perfectly safe."
"Daddy," Mabel sniffled, throwing her small arms around his neck, burying her face into the collar of his dress shirt. "Why did they want to take me away?"
May you like
"Because they were afraid of you, little bird," Luciano murmured, gently rubbing her back. "Because you are a Moretti. And you are stronger than all of them."
He stood up, lifting Mabel effortlessly into his arms. He looked out over the remaining guests. The internal coup had been crushed with absolute brutality. But the true war, the war against the Petrov syndicate who had dared to orchestrate the kidnapping, had only just begun.
