Chapter 10
The heavy oak doors of the master office clicked open. The room was perfectly intact, the bright, natural light still shining down on the rich mahogany furniture.
Roman stepped inside, lowering his weapon. "Nora."
Nora scrambled out from beneath the massive desk, pulling Sophie with her. When she saw Roman standing there, unharmed, she let out a ragged, breathless sob and ran across the room. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face into his chest.
Roman dropped the rifle onto the floor and wrapped his strong, masculine arms around her, burying his face in her hair. Sophie hugged his legs, her tiny hands clutching his tailored dark trousers.
"It's over," Roman murmured, his voice a low, steady rumble of absolute reassurance. "They are gone. You are safe."
"Are the bad men asleep, Daddy?" Sophie asked, looking up at him with wide, innocent blue eyes.
"Yes, little bird," Roman said softly, kneeling down to kiss her forehead. "They are fast asleep."
Nora pulled back slightly, her rosy cheeks wet with tears, but a fierce, protective strength burned in her eyes. "What happens now, Roman? Helena is in the basement. The Petrovs know we are alive. This won't just end here."
Roman stood up, his towering, deeply masculine frame radiating an aura of unwavering resolve. The handsome, distinctly Mafia Boss-like features of his face now framed the visage of an absolute warlord who had just reclaimed his reason to fight.
"No. It doesn't end here," Roman agreed, his voice dropping into that terrifying, measured cadence. "My mother will face a syndicate tribunal for high treason. And the Petrov family will learn what happens when they cross the D’Angelo bloodline."
He walked over to his desk, picking up a secure, encrypted smartphone. He dialed a number, his cold, intimidating eyes looking out the massive windows at the sprawling, fortified estate that was now their permanent fortress.
"Marcus," Roman said as his capo answered.
"Yes, Boss. The prisoners are secured. The cleanup crew is en route," Marcus reported efficiently.
"Leave a detail to guard the estate," Roman commanded, his volume incredibly low but echoing with final, absolute authority. "Gather the remaining strike teams. Load the transport vehicles."
"We are hitting someone else tonight, Boss?" Marcus asked, sensing the massive shift in the syndicate's posture.
"We are hitting everyone," Roman stated coldly. "The Petrovs thought they could cut off the head of the snake. Instead, they woke the dragon. By sunrise, I want the entire Petrov leadership delivered to my front gates."
"Understood, Boss. We go to war," Marcus confirmed before the line clicked dead.
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Roman lowered the phone. He looked back at Nora and Sophie. They were battered by years of poverty and lies, but they were finally home. He reached out his hand, and Nora took it, intertwining her fingers with his.
The domestic nightmare was over, but the war for the city had just been ignited. Roman D’Angelo had his family back, and he was ready to bathe the East Coast in blood to ensure they never suffered again. The screen faded to black, the promise of a brutal tomorrow hanging in the air.
