Chapter 6
The luminous, airy warmth of the dining room offered no solace to the woman kneeling on the patterned rug. Seraphina sobbed uncontrollably, her face buried in her manicured hands, her diamond engagement ring catching the bright light in a mocking display of failed ambition. The silence stretched, tight and unforgiving, broken only by her ragged, panicked weeping.
Malcolm stood over her, an imposing monolith of masculine power. His polished leather shoes rested mere inches from the hem of her ruined silk gown. He waited, his patience a weapon as sharp and precise as a scalpel.
"Are you prepared to detail exactly who helped you arrange transport for my son, or must I call my interrogators to assist you?" Malcolm asked, his deep voice carrying a measured, lethal calm.
Seraphina flinched violently at the threat. She dropped her hands, her fair skin streaked with ruined makeup, her eyes wide with primal terror. She knew the stories of what Malcolm Vance did to traitors within his syndicate.
"It was Marcus Thorne!" Seraphina choked out, the venom finally breaking through her tears as self-preservation took over. "He is a fixer for the eastern syndicate! He was supposed to take Lucas across the state line to a boarding school run by our associates! I swear on my life, he was instructed not to physically harm him!"
The sheer, calculated magnitude of the betrayal was staggering. Seraphina wasn't just a cruel woman; she was a cold-blooded operative who had arranged the kidnapping of his only child to secure a bloodline merger for her family.
Malcolm did not react physically. His high-bridged nose and sharply defined jawline remained locked in a mask of cold composure. But behind his perceptive eyes, a dark, violent calculus was rapidly computing the depth of the immediate danger to his syndicate.
"Did you believe that quietly exiling my son would allow your father to absorb my territory without a war?" Malcolm asked quietly.
"We were just trying to secure our future!" Seraphina pleaded, reaching out to grasp the leg of his tailored trousers. "I was trying to protect myself, Malcolm! If I didn't do it, my father would have given the contract to someone else! He would have had Lucas killed!"
Malcolm looked down at the trembling woman clinging to his leg. He felt absolutely nothing for her. The affection he had feigned for the sake of the syndicate merger evaporated instantly, leaving behind a cold, calculating void that craved only survival and absolute retribution.
"Do you expect me to harbor my son's kidnapper under my roof?" Malcolm asked.
He didn't wait for her to answer. He reached down with his artistic, tattooed hands and forcefully peeled her fingers off his suit. He stepped back, severing all physical contact with her forever.
"Is there any reason I shouldn't have my men escort you to the basement holding cells immediately?" Malcolm inquired, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt with immaculate precision.
"Malcolm, please, you can't!" Seraphina wept, crawling forward on her knees. "My father will kill you when he finds out the engagement is broken! He will burn this city to the ground to avenge me!"
"Are the consequences of your treason my concern?" Malcolm asked.
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He reached into his jacket and retrieved a sleek, encrypted smartphone. He dialed a single digit and pressed the phone to his ear. The small neck tattoo shifted seamlessly with the movement.
"Will you send a security detail to the grand dining room?" Malcolm asked into the receiver. "Will you ensure Miss Blake is escorted to the holding cells beneath the east wing immediately?"
