Chapter 8
The command was executed with terrifying efficiency. Two massive, suited capos stepped forward immediately, grabbing Vanessa roughly by the arms. The thirty-two-year-old woman shrieked, struggling frantically against their iron grips, her diamond jewelry flashing under the fluorescent lights as they pinned her against the concrete pillar and clamped a heavy, leather-gloved hand firmly over her mouth.
Sybil watched in absolute horror, her breath hitching in her throat. She looked toward her son, hoping Gavin would rise up and defend his mother and his lover.
But Gavin remained curled on the floor among Tobin’s spilled crayons and broken toys, weeping pathetic, bloody tears, completely paralyzed by fear and pain.
Alessandra turned her attention fully to the silent, watching crowd of her own soldiers. These were men who had served her father, men who had watched her violently seize control of the syndicate, and men who respected strength above all else.
"Vincent," Alessandra called out smoothly.
A tall, broad-shouldered capo with graying temples stepped out from the ranks, bowing his head respectfully. "Yes, Boss."
"What is the penalty for conspiring to usurp the head of the family?" Alessandra asked, her voice echoing clearly across the expansive underground level.
"Death, Boss," Vincent replied instantly, without a shred of hesitation.
"And what is the penalty for torturing a child of the royal bloodline?" she asked, her eyes sweeping over the assembled men.
"Death, Boss," the capos answered in a low, terrifying unison that vibrated through the floorboards.
Gavin let out a loud, ragged sob from the floor. "Alessandra, I am your husband! You can't kill the father of your child! The council won't allow it! They will demand a hearing!"
Alessandra slowly walked back to the center of the wreckage, stopping right beside the broken court-divider rack. She looked down at Gavin, her beautiful, angular face a mask of absolute disdain.
"The council?" Alessandra repeated, a cold, humorless smile finally touching the corners of her lips. "Gavin, where do you think I have been for the last six hours?"
Gavin’s eyes widened in profound terror.
"I just finished restructuring the entire East Coast operation," Alessandra explained softly, adjusting her tailored vest. "I handed the council a 30% increase in port revenues and secured the international shipping lanes. They just voted me absolute, unquestioned authority over all domestic disputes. I could shoot you right here, and the council would send me flowers."
Gavin’s entire body went limp as the final illusion of his safety evaporated. He had believed his status as her husband offered him immunity. He had believed the old-school Mafia rules would protect a man over a woman. He had been completely, fatally wrong.
"You are nothing but a liability, Gavin," Alessandra stated, the icy finality in her voice sealing his fate. "You thought you could build a secret empire using my resources, right under my nose. But your arrogance made you sloppy. You targeted my son because you were too cowardly to target me directly."
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She looked past him, her eyes locking onto the unconscious body of Ethan Cole, still buried beneath the tangled aluminum of the canopy frames.
"Vincent," Alessandra ordered. "Wake Ethan up. I want him conscious for what comes next."
