Chapter 10
The sprawling mansion was a devastated war zone, far removed from the bright, cinematic elegance of the engagement dinner just hours before. The warm golden light of the crystal chandeliers was gone, replaced by the harsh glare of tactical flashlights and emergency strobes. Heavily armed capos moved efficiently through the debris, securing the perimeter and removing the bodies of the fallen Hart soldiers.
Everett led Bree and Owen up the grand staircase, stepping carefully over shattered glass and broken mahogany paneling. He didn't look at the destruction of his home; his focus was entirely on the woman and child walking beside him.
He guided them into the master suite, the only room on the second floor that had remained completely untouched by the violence. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn, and a fire crackled warmly in the massive stone hearth, casting a soothing, golden glow over the plush leather furniture.
"Sit down, Bree," Everett commanded softly, gesturing toward a deep armchair near the fire.
Bree sank into the chair, exhaustion finally overtaking the adrenaline that had kept her moving. She watched as Everett gently laid the sleeping Owen into a large, secure crib in the corner of the room. He stood over his son for a long moment, his broad shoulders rising and falling in a steady rhythm, before turning back to her.
He walked over to a small crystal decanter on a side table, poured a finger of amber liquid into a glass, and handed it to her.
"Drink," Everett ordered quietly.
Bree took a sip, the fiery liquid burning down her throat, grounding her in the present. She looked up at him. The lethal mafia boss had vanished, replaced by a man completely exhausted but utterly victorious.
"What happens now?" Bree asked, her voice a fragile whisper.
"Do we allow traitors to sleep peacefully in their beds?" Everett asked, his cold eyes narrowing. He walked over to the fireplace, leaning his arm against the mantelpiece. "Marcus is currently mobilizing the heavy teams. By sunrise, the Hart family's shipping ports, their casinos, and their primary residences will be reduced to ash. Annelise and her father will realize the fatal magnitude of their mistake."
"You are going to destroy them completely," Bree stated, awed by the absolute certainty in his voice.
"Did they offer my family mercy?" Everett countered smoothly. He slowly walked over to her chair, his polished leather shoes making no sound on the thick rug. He stopped just inches away, his towering frame casting a long shadow over her.
He reached down, his large, tattooed hand gently catching her chin. He tilted her face up, forcing her to meet his dark, unreadable eyes. His thumb brushed softly across her softly defined cheekbone. The touch sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core.
"You did not run, Bree," Everett murmured, his voice dropping to a terrifying, intimate register. "You stood between my son and a bullet. You proved your loyalty in blood and fire. You are not a maid in this house anymore."
"What am I?" Bree breathed, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Are you not the mother of my child?" Everett asked softly, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "Are you not the woman who is going to stand beside me when I rebuild this city?"
Bree couldn't look away. She was mesmerized by the danger and the unexpected tenderness in his eyes. He wasn't asking a question; he was offering a crown.
"Yes," Bree whispered, the single word sealing her fate.
Before he could respond, before he could close the final agonizing inch between their lips, the encrypted phone in his pocket began to vibrate violently.
Everett closed his eyes, a flicker of cold fury passing over his features at the interruption. He dropped his hand from her face and pulled the phone out. He glanced at the screen.
The warmth in the room vanished instantly.
"Marcus," Everett answered, his voice returning to the icy, lethal cadence of the syndicate boss.
He listened for a brief second, his sharp jawline clenching tight.
"Is the Commission convening?" Everett asked smoothly, his eyes flashing with dark promise. "Then arm the secondary teams. Let them come."
He hung up the phone and looked back down at Bree. The tender moment was completely shattered, replaced by the terrifying reality of his world. The war for the city was far from over. It was only just beginning.
May you like
"Is the war ever truly over?" Everett asked softly, turning toward the heavy oak door.
He walked out of the room, heading into the darkness to protect his empire, leaving Bree waiting by the fire, knowing the true battle for their survival had only just begun.
