Chapter 9
The sprawling, sunlit penthouse transformed instantly into a war room. The bright, cinematic lighting caught the grim, determined faces of Damon’s top lieutenants as they gathered around a massive glass table. Assault rifles, tactical vests, and blueprints were unceremoniously dumped onto the pristine surfaces.
"The feds are setting up perimeters around the docks and the downtown warehouses," Silas reported, pointing to a digital map on a tablet. "Caldwell is using the police as his personal army. If we step out in the open, they have authorization to shoot on sight."
"He wants to corner us," Damon analyzed, his voice a steady, terrifying rumble of authority. He had removed his black overcoat, standing in his tailored three-piece suit, projecting an aura of unbreakable power. "He thinks if he cuts off our revenue and traps us in the penthouse, the other families will smell blood and turn on us."
Grace stood near the hallway, her hands resting protectively on her five-month pregnant belly. She had changed into a soft, clean sweater provided by the staff, but her fair, rosy face was pale with anxiety. The war she had desperately tried to avoid was exploding all around her.
"Damon, if the federal tactical units breach this building, we won't survive," Grace said, her voice cutting through the gruff chatter of the mobsters.
"They won't breach the building," Damon stated, his cold eyes locking onto hers. "Because we won't be here."
The lieutenants looked at their Boss in surprise.
"We are not going to sit in a glass tower and wait for a corrupt politician to execute us under the guise of the law," Damon commanded, his American accent sharp and unyielding. "Silas. Empty the armories. I want every man loaded into the armored transports in the subterranean garage in ten minutes."
"Where are we going, Boss?" Silas asked, racking the slide of a heavy pistol.
"The Senator thinks he can hide behind his federal badge," Damon sneered, a dark, lethal smile touching his handsome face. "We are going to strike the Caldwell family compound in the suburbs. We are going to cut the head off the snake."
"A direct assault on a Senator's private estate?" one of the younger capos breathed, his eyes wide. "That's suicide, Boss. He'll have a private army guarding that place."
"Then we will leave a mountain of bodies on his front lawn," Damon replied smoothly. "He targeted the mother of my child. There are no rules of engagement anymore. We kill every man carrying a weapon on that property."
Damon walked over to Grace, gently placing his large, warm hands on her shoulders.
"You will ride in the center transport with my personal guard," Damon instructed softly, ensuring she felt the absolute certainty in his voice. "The armor can stop armor-piercing rounds. You keep your head down until I tell you it is safe."
"You're going to get yourself killed," Grace whispered, a single tear escaping her eye.
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"I have too much to live for now," Damon promised, wiping the tear away with his thumb.
Suddenly, a massive, deafening explosion rocked the entire skyscraper. The floor-to-ceiling windows vibrated violently, the bright, natural light outside briefly overshadowed by a rising plume of thick, black smoke from the streets below. The building alarms began to shriek.
