Chapter 5
By nightfall, the sprawling Vale estate had transformed entirely into a fortress. The snow had begun to fall heavily again, a blinding white blizzard that masked the movements of the armed sentries patrolling the perimeter. Inside, the grand chandeliers were dimmed to conserve backup power, casting long, eerie shadows across the polished marble floors and carved walnut furniture.
Damon stood in the command center—formerly his expansive library—staring at a series of security monitors. His underboss, a scarred man named Silas, was pointing to a map of the city’s shipping districts spread across a massive mahogany table.
"The Ardens hit the south docks about an hour ago," Silas reported, his voice grim. "They burned two of our warehouses. They’re trying to draw our men out of the estate, Boss. Elias knows we are heavily fortified here."
"Hold the line," Damon commanded, leaning over the table, his broad shoulders tense. "Do not send reinforcements to the docks. The warehouses are insured; my family is not. Elias wants me exposed. Keep every available gun on this property."
"Understood," Silas nodded. "But Elias is a proud man. He won't just hit the businesses. He’s going to come for blood to avenge Celeste's honor."
As if on cue, the heavy oak doors of the library pushed open. Elise hurried inside, carrying a sleeping Lucy in her arms. The toddler's soft curls rested against Elise's shoulder, entirely oblivious to the mafia war exploding around them.
Damon instantly abandoned the map, crossing the room to meet them. "What's wrong? Why aren't you in the safe wing?"
"The power flickered on the east side of the house," Elise explained, her clear, expressive eyes wide with anxiety. "And I heard something... a sound like breaking glass near the conservatory. The guards told me to stay put, but I didn't feel safe with Lucy so far from you."
Damon’s blood ran cold. The conservatory was entirely made of glass, structurally identical to the winter garden, and it was located directly beneath the safe wing.
"Silas," Damon barked, pulling his heavy pistol from his shoulder holster. "Get a team to the east wing immediately. They breached the perimeter."
"On it," Silas yelled, running out of the library and shouting orders into his radio.
Damon turned back to Elise. He gently brushed a soft curl away from Lucy’s sleeping face, then looked deeply into Elise’s eyes. The terrified maid he had known yesterday was gone; in her place was a fiercely protective woman holding his daughter like her own.
"You did exactly the right thing bringing her to me," Damon said, his voice low and urgent. "I need you to take her down to the wine cellar. There is a reinforced steel panic room behind the vintage racks. The code is my birth year. Lock yourselves in and do not open it for anyone but me."
"What about Martha?" Elise asked frantically.
"I will get her," Damon promised. "She is in the guest suite on this floor. I will bring her to you. Go, Elise. Now!"
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Elise didn't hesitate. She held Lucy tighter and ran toward the hidden servants' staircase that led to the lower levels. Damon watched her disappear into the shadows for a split second before sprinting in the opposite direction.
The silence of the mansion was abruptly shattered by the deafening, rapid-fire crack of automatic weapons echoing from the eastern wing. The Ardens had arrived, and they had brought an army to slaughter the king in his own castle. Damon racked the slide of his pistol, his angular jaw set with murderous intent as he ran toward the gunfire.
