The mafia boss tasted a single spoonful of the dessert

The air in the grand foyer ignited with the deafening roar of automatic gunfire. Everett used Victor's body as a human shield, dragging the choking capo backward behind a massive marble pillar as the Voss enforcers opened fire. The heavy slugs shattered the pristine ivory wall panels and rained debris down upon the polished floor.

"Are you prepared to die on my doorstep, Victor?" Everett whispered into the older man's ear, before violently twisting his wrist. The sharp, fatal crack of Victor's neck breaking was drowned out by the chaos.

Everett dropped the body and drew his heavy, suppressed pistol, his cold eyes calculating the angles of the room. "Are they breaching the eastern doors, Marcus?" Everett yelled into his comms over the gunfire.

"We are holding them at the courtyard, Boss! But they brought heavy ordinance!" Marcus's voice cracked back.

Everett moved with terrifying, lethal precision. He stepped out from cover, firing three times. The suppressed weapon made a sharp thwip sound, and three Voss men collapsed instantly to the floor. The threat inside the foyer was neutralized, but the war raged violently on the estate grounds.

He navigated the shadowed archways, his polished leather shoes making absolutely no sound on the marble. He had to secure the west wing.

Upstairs, the sounds of the battle were muffled but unmistakably terrifying. Celia sat on the floor of the master suite, her back pressed against the heavy oak door. She held a heavy brass candlestick she had taken from the mantle, her knuckles white. Juliet remained fast asleep, entirely exhausted.

Suddenly, the handle of the bedroom door rattled violently.

Celia gasped, scrambling backward, raising the heavy brass candlestick. "Who is it?" she cried out, her voice shaking.

"Are you unharmed, Celia?" Everett's deep, unmistakable voice filtered through the heavy wood.

Celia sobbed in relief, immediately throwing the deadbolt and pulling the door open.

Everett stepped into the room. He looked like a god of war. His crisp white shirt was stained with soot and blood. Yet, his posture remained unbowed, and his cold, perceptive eyes swept the room instantly.

"You're bleeding," Celia gasped, dropping the candlestick.

"Is a little blood not the cost of cleaning house?" Everett asked, catching her by the waist as she collided with his chest. His large, tattooed hand came up to rest gently on the back of her head, holding her close.

"Is it over?" Celia whispered against his chest.

"Do you believe the Voss family will ever pose a threat to us again?" Everett inquired, stepping back slightly to look down into her face. "Victor is dead. His remaining men surrendered when they realized they were surrounded."

Celia swallowed hard, the brutal reality of the mafia world crashing over her. "And Amara?"

"Will you accompany me to the cellar to conclude that piece of business tomorrow?" Everett asked, a dark, unforgiving shadow crossing his eyes.

The morning sun cast a cold, unforgiving light over the Crowne estate. The iron gates were twisted, the manicured lawns scarred by explosives, but the fortress had held.

Everett stood in his private study, gazing out the shattered window. He wore a fresh, dark three-piece suit, his powerful shoulders unbowed by the weight of the previous night.

"Are the remaining Voss territories officially under our control, Marcus?" Everett asked, not turning as the heavy mahogany door opened.

"Yes, Boss," Marcus grunted. "The surviving capos surrendered by dawn. The entire western seaboard is yours."

Celia was waiting in the grand hallway when they emerged from the study. She was no longer wearing the sophisticated black maid dress. Instead, she was dressed in a tailored, emerald-green silk blouse and dark trousers, clothes Everett had ordered for her before the sun rose.

"Did you sleep at all, Celia?" Everett asked, stopping before her, his cold eyes warming instantly at the sight of her.

"A little," Celia answered softly. "Juliet is awake. The doctor said she will be fine, just exhausted."

"Do you believe the savior of the Crowne family should ever wear a maid's uniform again?" Everett asked, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips as he offered her his arm.