A 7-Year-Old Girl Sat Frozen Outside The Mafia Boss's Tower — Then She Said Six Words That Made The Devil Stop His Car

Although Naomi and her children were safe inside Blackwood Tower, the city outside was boiling.

Don Carmine Valenti—a seventy-year-old mob patriarch with a ruthless reputation—was incensed by the destruction of his son’s meatpacking facility and the public humiliation of Leo. Sitting in his private estate in Gross Pointe, Don Carmine called an emergency summit of the city’s underworld bosses.

At 2:00 PM, Julian sat in his glass conference room. Marcus stood beside him, presenting a secure video stream from an operative inside the Gross Pointe summit.

"Carmine is rallying his remaining captains," Marcus explained, pointing to the screen. "He’s calling for an absolute embargo on Blackwood shipping routes at the docks, and he’s hired eight contract shooters from Chicago. He wants Naomi returned, and he wants you dead, Boss."

Julian leaned back in his leather chair, tapping a gold pen against his desk. "Carmine is old. He’s reacting out of pride, not strategy. He knows he doesn't have the firepower to assault this tower directly."

"No," Marcus agreed. "But he can target your supply lines. He can make doing business in Detroit impossible for your legal proxies."

The door to the conference room opened quietly. Naomi walked in, wearing a warm sweater and trousers provided by the estate staff. She looked rested, her bruises beginning to fade, carrying a tray with fresh coffee.

She set the tray down on the table, her eyes lingering on the security monitors displaying the Valenti estate.

"He won't stop, will he?" Naomi asked softly, her voice filled with quiet concern. "As long as I'm here, you and your people are in danger."

Julian looked up at her, gesturing for her to sit down in the leather chair across from him.

"You are not the cause of this war, Naomi," Julian said firmly. "Carmine Valenti started this war seven years ago when he put a bomb in my home. He thought he could rule this city through terror forever. I allowed him to exist because I didn't care about the city anymore."

He looked toward the window where Pearl and Jonah could be seen playing a board game with Dr. Harrison in the adjoining lounge.

"I care now," Julian said softly. "I will not allow men like Carmine Valenti to dictate whether innocent children can sleep safely in their beds."

Naomi looked at Julian, seeing the transformation that had taken place over the last twelve hours. The mythical 'Devil of Detroit' wasn't a monster; he was a guardian who had forgotten his purpose until two cold children knocked on his door.