Chapter 9
The cinematic, bright sunlight pouring through the gaps in the velvet curtains illuminated the dust motes dancing in the silent study. Alexander stood perfectly still, his sharply defined jawline tightening as he processed the capo’s words. The Hayes family was not a small, independent faction; they controlled the entire western seaboard's shipping routes. Breaking the engagement was not merely a domestic issue—it was a catastrophic political fracture in the American underworld.
"An act of war," Alexander repeated. He spoke the words slowly, rolling them over his tongue as if tasting them. A dark, terrifying smirk touched the corner of his lips.
"Yes, Boss," the capo, a hardened white American man named Vince, replied nervously. "Don Hayes is demanding a sit-down by tomorrow evening. He says if you do not publicly apologize and reinstate the wedding, he will freeze our supply lines and authorize his men to move against our assets."
Alexander walked back to his desk. He reached out with his heavily tattooed hand and picked up a heavy crystal decanter, pouring a small measure of amber liquid into a glass. He did not drink it; he merely swirled it, watching the light catch the liquid.
"He wants an apology," Alexander murmured, his deep, raspy voice echoing softly. "For stopping his daughter from abusing my child."
"They don't see it that way, Alexander," Vince cautioned, taking a respectful step forward. "To them, you humiliated their daughter in front of your staff. You dragged her out of the estate. They view it as a direct challenge to their power."
Alexander set the glass down. The sharp, intimidating eyes of the Mafia boss locked onto his subordinate.
"They view it as a challenge because they are arrogant," Alexander stated coldly. "They believed they could infiltrate my home, abuse my bloodline, and use a wedding ring as a shield against the consequences."
"What are your orders, Boss?" Vince asked, his posture straightening as he prepared for the inevitable bloodshed. "Do we accept the sit-down?"
"No," Alexander said simply.
Vince blinked, surprised. Refusing a sit-down was a blatant, undeniable declaration of war. "Sir, if we refuse to meet, they will strike tonight."
"Let them," Alexander whispered. He walked around the desk, his presence filling the room with an elegant yet extremely dangerous aura. "I want you to mobilize every man on our payroll. Lock down the northern warehouses. Double the guard on the estate perimeter. If a single vehicle belonging to the Hayes syndicate crosses the county line, you are to destroy it. No warnings. No survivors."
"Understood, Boss," Vince said, his voice dropping into a serious, military cadence. "We are going to war."
"We are not going to war, Vince," Alexander corrected, his volume dropping into that terrifying, measured whisper. He adjusted the cuffs of his ruined dress shirt. "We are performing an extermination. The Hayes family forgot who they were dealing with. It is time to remind them."
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Vince nodded sharply, turning on his heel and exiting the study to relay the orders that would set the city on fire.
Alexander was left alone in the room. He walked over to the large window, pulling the heavy velvet curtain back entirely. The bright, vivid colors of the estate lawns stretched out before him, peaceful and pristine. But Alexander knew that by midnight, the pristine silence would be broken by the sound of gunfire.
