Chapter 4 - The Glass King’s Wrath
The street exploded into violence.
From the dark alleyways on either side of 4th Street, eight men in pristine dark suits stepped out simultaneously. They didn't shout; they didn't take cover behind park cars. They moved with the terrifying, mechanical precision of professional soldiers executing a drill.
Suppressors hissed in the dark rain.
Pfft-pfft-pfft.
The two O'Malley gunmen across the street didn't even have time to swing their submachine guns around. Blood sprayed against the yellow brick wall behind them, and both men collapsed into the gutter like empty coats.
The rear door of the black sedan opened.
Julian Hart stepped out into the rain. He was wearing an anthracite wool overcoat, his leather gloves spotless, an open black umbrella held over his head by a tall lieutenant named Viktor—the same Viktor who ran his shipping manifests.
Julian didn't look at the dead men in the street. He didn't look at the smoke billowing from the third-floor window of the apartment building.
His pale grey eyes swept over the wet pavement until they landed on Maisie Doyle.
She was standing near the alley entrance, soaked by the cold rain, her cotton nightgown clinging to her frail frame. Beside her, Cyrus was standing in a low, defensive crouch, his coat dripping water, his dark eyes locked on Julian’s face.
Julian walked across the street, his leather soles stepping carefully over the stream of bloody water running into the storm drain.
He stopped three feet from Maisie, lowered his umbrella slightly to shield her from the rain, and looked down at her.
"You are wet, child," Julian said softly.
Maisie tilted her head up, listening to the patter of raindrops striking the taut black fabric of the umbrella above her head. "Mr. Hart?"
"Yes, Maisie."
"They broke my window," she said, her voice small, shivering from the cold wind. "And they made Cyrus mad again."
Julian’s face did not change. His jaw did not clench; his eyes did not narrow. But the air around him seemed to drop five degrees. Marcus, standing five feet away with his bleeding forehead, took a involuntary step back from his boss.
"I am aware," Julian said calmly. He reached into his coat, pulled out a heavy silk scarf, and carefully wrapped it around Maisie’s wet neck, tucking the ends inside her nightgown. "Mr. O'Malley appears to have forgotten the rules of engagement in this city. He assumed that because you live in a cheap apartment, you were unprotected."
He looked up at Leo, who was leaning against the bakery wall, clutching the stolen shotgun, gasping for air.
"Mr. Doyle," Julian said. "You will not be returning to this residence."
"I... I don't have anywhere else to go, Mr. Hart," Leo choked out, wiping rainwater and tears from his face. "All our stuff is up there. My mother's pictures... her watch..."
Julian gestured to Viktor. "Retrieve the family heirlooms from the apartment. Burn the rest of the building."
Leo’s eyes widened in horror. "Burn the building?! There are other people living here!"
"My men have already evacuated the tenants," Julian said smoothly, as if discussing the weather. "They have each been provided with five thousand dollars in cash and three nights at the Omni Hotel downtown. By morning, this structure will be a pile of ash, and the O'Malley family will understand that I have cleared the ground."
He looked down at Maisie again. "You and your brother will stay at my estate in Brookline tonight. You will have your own wing, a private physician to examine your brother's lungs, and a yard large enough for the dog to run."
Maisie reached out, her small, cold hand finding Julian’s wool sleeve. She held onto the fabric, her thumb brushing a horn button.
"Mr. Hart?"
"Yes, Maisie?"
"Are you going to hurt the men who broke my window?" she asked.
Julian remained silent for two long seconds. The dark rain continued to fall, drumming a steady rhythm against the umbrella.
"I am going to ensure they never break another window," Julian replied gently.
He turned to Marcus. "Put them in the car."
Marcus opened the door of the second sedan. Leo, realizing he no longer had a choice in the direction his life was moving, took Maisie’s hand and guided her into the leather-trimmed interior. Cyrus followed without hesitation, placing his massive body across both of their laps, his head resting against the armrest, his dark eyes watching Julian through the tinted glass.
Julian stood on the wet pavement, watching the sedan pull away into the dark, rainy night.
Once the red taillights vanished around the corner, Julian turned to Viktor.
"Call the captains," Julian commanded, his voice dropping into a tone that was colder than the Atlantic wind. "Tell them to assemble at the Charlestown docks at four in the morning. Every warehouse owned by Seamus O'Malley will be seized before sunrise."
"And Seamus O'Malley, Boss?" Viktor asked quietly.
May you like
Julian pulled a white linen handkerchief from his pocket, wiped a single drop of rain from his cheek, and tossed the cloth into the bloody gutter.
"Bring him to the estate," Julian said. "My new guest wishes to teach me how to handle wild animals."
