Chapter 7
The bright, airy cinematic light of the library suddenly felt harsh and unforgiving. Marcus stood in the doorway, his chest heaving. The revelation of the poisoned wine hadn't just ended an engagement; it had brokered a catastrophic alliance.
"Boss," Marcus panted, his eyes darting toward Anya before locking onto Harlan. "We have a massive situation."
"Speak," Harlan commanded, his posture rigid, preparing for an assault.
"It’s not a direct attack," Marcus said quickly. "It's the Commission. They just called an emergency tribunal in Chicago. They are demanding your immediate presence."
Harlan’s jaw clenched so hard the muscles ticked visibly. The Commission rarely called emergency tribunals unless a syndicate head was facing a vote of no confidence—or a declaration of total war.
"Why?" Harlan demanded coldly.
"It's Seraphina's brother," Marcus explained grimly. "He went directly to the ruling families. He told them you violently exiled his sister without council approval. They are backing his play, Boss. They want you to answer for the broken alliance."
Anya’s blood ran completely cold. The secret she had exposed was about to drag the entire Westbrook empire into a bloodbath. She looked up at Harlan, terrified of the monsters circling outside.
"Did the Commission demand a vote for my removal?" Harlan asked, his voice a low, lethal hum that betrayed absolutely no panic.
"Yes, Boss," Marcus confirmed, checking the encrypted phone. "The tribunal convenes in exactly twenty-four hours. If you don't show up, the entire Commission will back a coordinated hit on the estate."
"Do they believe I am easily intimidated?" Harlan asked smoothly, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored shirt.
Marcus blinked, confused by the response. "Boss, they have the numbers. If the Commission backs the Vale family, we will be fighting a war on five different fronts by tomorrow night."
"Do numbers win wars, or does conviction?" Harlan countered coldly. He turned away from the security chief and finally looked at Anya.
She was pale and shaking, terrified that she had brought destruction down upon the only man who had ever made her feel safe.
Harlan walked over to her, his polished leather shoes silent on the rug. He reached out and gently gripped her arms, pulling her firmly against his powerful, broad chest. The sheer, immovable strength of his masculine frame grounded her instantly.
"Are you listening to me, Anya?" Harlan murmured, his deep voice vibrating against her cheek. "Did I tell you that you are under my protection? Do I look like a man who surrenders to settle a debt?"
"But the Commission—"
"Is the Commission running my city?" Harlan interrupted, his eyes burning with a dark, unyielding fire. "They believe they can dictate the rules of my territory from a boardroom in Chicago. Are they prepared to learn a very painful lesson in modern warfare?"
He released her slowly and turned back to Marcus, the lethal Mafia boss fully emerging.
"Recall all the heavy teams from the ports," Harlan commanded, his voice echoing with absolute authority. "Lock down the perimeter of the estate. I want snipers on the roof and the heavy armored vehicles blocking the gates. No one gets within a mile of this house."
"And the tribunal, Boss?" Marcus asked, typing frantic orders into his phone. "Are we ignoring the summons?"
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"No," Harlan replied, a cold, merciless smile curling the corner of his lips. "We are going to attend. But are we going to negotiate?"
Harlan turned his gaze back to Anya, his dark eyes sweeping over her beautiful, terrified face. The war for the city was about to begin, and he needed her safe.
