Chapter 9
Vincent moved with brutal precision. He strode over to the wreckage of the canopy frames, grabbed Ethan Cole by the lapels of his ruined tuxedo, and hauled him roughly out of the tangled aluminum. Ethan’s face was a grotesque, swollen mess, blood pouring from his shattered cheekbone. Vincent slapped him hard across his uninjured cheek, jolting the man awake with a sharp, agonizing gasp.
Ethan blinked wildly, his vision swimming under the harsh fluorescent lights. He tried to scramble backward, but Vincent held him firmly in place, forcing him to witness the absolute destruction of their attempted coup.
Alessandra stood in the center of the garage, the undisputed queen of the underworld, holding court amidst the wreckage of luggage carts and foam training cones.
"Listen carefully," Alessandra commanded, her voice dropping to a low, lethal hum that commanded total silence. "Because I am only going to say this once."
Sybil, Vanessa, Ethan, and Gavin all stared at her in terrified, breathless anticipation.
"Ethan," Alessandra began, her dark eyes locking onto the bleeding man. "You assaulted a syndicate boss. Under normal circumstances, you would be dead before you hit the floor. But you are Vanessa's brother, and you know where this secret child is being kept."
Ethan swallowed hard, blood trickling down his chin. "I won't tell you where the boy is. You'll kill him."
"I don't kill children, Ethan," Alessandra replied coldly. "Vincent, put Ethan in the trunk of the lead SUV. He will provide the address of the safehouse, and my men will retrieve the boy. If he lies, start breaking fingers."
"Yes, Boss," Vincent nodded, dragging the struggling, pleading Ethan toward the waiting vehicles.
Alessandra turned her attention to Sybil. The sixty-five-year-old matriarch was weeping now, all her arrogance completely stripped away.
"Sybil," Alessandra said softly. "You believed your bloodline was superior to mine. You are officially stripped of the Ashford name. My men will escort you back to the penthouse to pack a single suitcase. Then, you will be placed on a commercial flight to a very remote, very hostile region of South America. If you ever attempt to contact this family again, you will be executed on sight."
"Alessandra, please! I'm an old woman!" Sybil begged, dropping to her knees on the cold concrete. "Where will I go? How will I live?"
"You will live exactly how you forced my son to live today," Alessandra replied without a shred of mercy. "Cold, alone, and entirely dependent on the kindness of strangers. Take her away."
Two guards stepped forward, hauling the screaming, sobbing older woman toward the VIP elevator.
Finally, Alessandra turned to Vanessa. The mistress was shaking violently, her muffled cries echoing behind the leather-gloved hand of the capo holding her.
"Release her mouth," Alessandra ordered.
The capo dropped his hand. Vanessa gasped for air, falling to her knees on the dirty, wet concrete.
"My son... please, don't hurt my son," Vanessa sobbed, crawling forward until she was at Alessandra's polished heels. "Take everything! Take Gavin! Just let me have my boy!"
"Your son is innocent in this," Alessandra stated, her voice icy but fair. "My men are retrieving him now. You will both be relocated. You will be given new identities and a strict set of rules. If you ever try to contact Gavin or this syndicate again, you disappear. Am I clear?"
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"Yes! Yes, thank you!" Vanessa wept, pressing her forehead to the concrete in absolute submission.
Alessandra looked at the final piece of trash left in her garage. Gavin.
