Chapter 5 - The Blood of the Sovereigns
Victoria’s smile didn't fade immediately; it simply froze on her face, her eyes shifting from Dominic to the pen on the desk. "Dominic, honey, what are you talking about? Sign the papers. We have guests waiting downstream."
"The guests are currently being entertained by twenty-four active-duty tactical operators from the Direct Action Group, Victoria," Dominic said smoothly, leaning back against the edge of the mahogany desk. "Your Sovereign detail downstairs? The mercenaries you brought in from Detroit? They were neutralized in the parking garage twenty minutes ago. No noise. No sirens. Just clean extraction."
Frank’s hand immediately went to the inside of his jacket, reaching for his shoulder holster.
He never cleared the leather.
The heavy oak door of the library shattered inward as Elena Vance blew the hinges with a tactical shotgun charge. Before the splinters could hit the carpet, she fired two precise, high-velocity rounds directly into Frank Corva’s chest. The massive underboss stumbled backward, his eyes wide with a sudden, shocked realization of his own mortality, before crashing through a glass display case and collapsing into a motionless heap on the floor.
Anthony Bianchi let out a high, terrified shriek, throwing his hands in the air. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! She made me do it! She had my family tracked!"
Victoria didn't scream. She was a professional cleaner, her survival instincts kicking in instantly. She lunged toward the desk, her hand reaching into a hidden compartment beneath her emerald dress where a compact 9mm pistol was strapped to her thigh.
Dominic was faster.
He caught her by the throat before her fingers could touch the grip, his massive hand closing around her neck with a force that cut off her breath instantly. He lifted her off her feet, slamming her back against the heavy mahogany bookshelves with a crash that brought dozens of leather volumes raining down around them.
"You touched my daughter," Dominic whispered, his face inches from hers, his voice completely devoid of human emotion. "You made my son believe that his father couldn't save him."
Victoria choked, her fingers tearing at his wrists, her face turning a deep, suffocating purple as her designer heels kicked uselessly against the shelves. She looked at him, looking for a shred of mercy, looking for the man she thought she had manipulated for months. She found nothing but the cold, empty void of a father who had become a monster to protect his cubs.
"Your handlers in Zurich are already being liquidated, Victoria," Elena said, stepping into the room, her shotgun lowered, her expression completely detached. "Julian Vance sent his regards before my brother put him in the ground three hours ago. The Sovereign Faction is gone from Chicago. You are the last loose thread."
Dominic lowered Victoria until her toes touched the carpet, but his grip didn't loosen an inch. He leaned in close to her ear, his breath hot against her skin.
"My wife Isabella was weak, you said?" Dominic whispered. "She was the strongest thing this city ever produced. And her blood still runs in my house."
With a sudden, violent twist of his shoulders, Dominic broke her neck.
The elegant fiancée went limp in his grasp, her emerald dress rustling as he released her body, letting her slide onto the expensive Persian rug like a discarded garment. The silence that returned to the library was absolute, broken only by the distant, rhythmic thumping of the bass from the charity gala below.
Dominic walked over to the desk, pulled a clean linen handkerchief from his pocket, and carefully wiped a small speck of dust from his onyx cufflinks. He looked at Anthony Bianchi, who was shivering violently in his chair, his face covered in sweat.
"Anthony," Dominic said quietly.
"Yes, boss! Yes, anything!"
"Clean up this room," Dominic commanded, turning toward the broken doorway. "And then prepare the new trust documents. Everything goes to Lucas and Sophia. Everything."
"Understood, boss. Right away."
Dominic walked out of the library, Elena following closely behind him. They descended through the service stairs, bypassing the ballroom entirely, and stepped out into the crisp, cool morning air of the Chicago alleyway.
The black Suburban was waiting at the curb, its engine idling silently. Gabriel Vance was at the wheel, and through the heavily tinted windows of the rear cabin, Dominic could see two small shapes sleeping soundly beneath a thick blue blanket.
May you like
He opened the door and climbed inside, the heavy armored panel closing with a solid, protective thud that shut out the world entirely. He pulled Lucas and Sophia into his lap, their small bodies warm against his chest, their breathing steady and peaceful in the quiet cabin.
The city of Chicago still belonged to the Morettis, but as the vehicle pulled away from the curb, heading north toward the clean, unblemished forests of Wisconsin, Dominic knew that the empire didn't matter anymore. The wolves had been hunted down, the perimeter was clean, and his children would never have to live in silence again.
