Chapter 5 - THE VIPER'S WALTZ
The blood on the marble floors was scrubbed clean by dawn, but the silence in the Volkov estate was heavier than ever. Julian’s betrayal had shaken the family, yet Dominic’s grip on the syndicate only tightened into an iron fist. He stood before the family council in the grand dining room, his authority absolute, his eyes devoid of mercy.
Three nights later, the Winter Gala commenced in a ballroom dripping with crystal and gold. The city’s most dangerous predators gathered in tailored tuxedos and silk gowns. When the grand brass doors opened, the entire hall fell into a breathless hush.
Emma walked in, radiating absolute power. She wore a midnight-blue velvet gown that cascaded over her curves like liquid shadow, and the ancestral Volkov rubies burned against her collarbone. She did not look like a diner waitress; she looked like a queen who had bathed in the blood of her enemies. Beside her, Dominic moved with the lethal grace of a king, his hand resting securely on the small of her back.
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Whispers rippled through the crowd as they approached the center table, where Don Castiglione sat swirling a glass of scotch. The aging patriarch looked at Emma with cold, calculating eyes, expecting to see a trembling, fragile girl. Instead, Emma met his gaze with terrifying calm. When Castiglione offered a mocking toast to the "new blood," Emma picked up her glass. Her voice carried over the silent room, smooth and venomous, as she thanked him for the target practice at her estate, casually mentioning that his men lacked aim.
Castiglione’s face flushed purple. Dominic let out a low, dark chuckle that sent shivers down the spines of everyone present. He pulled Emma flush against his side, kissing the crown of her head in front of the entire underworld. The message was clear, burned into the minds of every mob boss in the room. The waitress was not a weakness. She was the heart of the Volkov empire, and heaven help anyone who tried to stop its beating.
