Chapter 5 - The War Counsel
By sunrise, the estate was locked down tighter than a federal prison.
Fifty heavily armed Moretti soldiers patrolled the perimeter. Steel shutters covered the lower windows, and private medical staff treated the two guards who had been hit by the mercenaries' sedative darts.
Claire and Owen were moved into my personal suite—the most heavily fortified room in the mansion, featuring reinforced steel doors and bulletproof glass.
At 9:00 AM, my top capos sat around the large dining table downstairs. Dominic stood beside my wheelchair, placing a stack of satellite photos and intelligence reports on the table.
"The mercenaries were hired through a broker in Detroit," Dominic reported, his tone dark. "Paid in cryptocurrency traced back to Don Vanezzi’s eldest son, Lorenzo. They wanted to kidnap Claire and the boy to force you into surrendering the northern territory."
The capos began arguing loudly, banging their fists on the table.
"We strike back now!" Capo Santino shouted. "We blow Vanezzi’s headquarters to hell!"
"If we go to war in the streets, the FBI will step in!" Capo Russo countered. "We lose our shipping contracts!"
"ENOUGH!" I roared.
The room silenced immediately. Twenty grown men looked at me, waiting for the verdict.
"Vanezzi tried to hurt my family in my own home," I said, my voice quiet, flat, and terrifyingly absolute. "This is no longer a business dispute over shipping routes. This is an execution."
"What are your orders, Boss?" Dominic asked.
"Call a meeting of the Chicago Syndicate Commission for tomorrow night," I commanded. "Tell them Don Vanezzi will be answering for a violation of the high council laws—hiring unsanctioned foreign mercenaries against an active boss's household."
"Vanezzi won't show up," Santino pointed out. "He knows he's guilty."
"He will show up," I sneered, "because I am going to leak a rumor that I was critically wounded in last night's attack. He won't be able to resist coming to see my corpse."
After the capos left to execute my orders, I wheeled myself back upstairs to my suite.
Inside, Claire was sitting on the edge of my king-sized bed, folding a blanket. Owen was sleeping peacefully in a portable crib nearby.
When I entered, she looked up, her expression a mix of relief and lingering trauma.
"How are you holding up?" I asked softly, stopping my chair beside her.
"I'm okay," she said, though her voice trembled slightly. She looked at me, taking in my pale face and the dark circles under my eyes. "What happens now, Adrian?"
"I end this," I answered truthfully. "Tomorrow night, Vanezzi will be dealt with permanently. After that... you and Owen will never have to fear another gun in this house."
Claire stood up, stepping between my knees, leaning down to frame my face with her soft, warm hands.
"I don't care about the guns, Adrian," she whispered, looking deep into my eyes. "I care about you. Don't go into that meeting looking for death just to avenge your father. Live for us."
May you like
I reached up, holding her wrists gently. "I used to think my life ended on that highway twenty-two years ago, Claire. But looking at you... I want to live. For the first time in my life, I want a future."
Claire leaned down, and for the first time, her lips touched mine in a soft, tender, desperate kiss that tasted like survival, hope, and an unconditional love I had never dared dream I deserved.
