CHAPTER 7
An hour later, the private helicopter descended through a thick layer of ocean fog, landing softly on the sprawling helipad of a massive, heavily fortified coastal estate.
The fortress sat perched atop the rocky cliffs of Montauk, surrounded by twelve-foot iron fences, motion sensors, and dozens of heavily armed security patrols.
This was the infamous Russo family stronghold—a luxury compound built to withstand a full-scale military assault or a years-long siege.
Leo stepped out of the aircraft first, turning back to offer his hand to Clare as the rain continued to fall in steady, heavy curtains over the Atlantic Ocean.
Clare ignored his outstretched hand, pushing herself up from the leather seat and stepping down onto the wet tarmac on her own trembling legs.
"Welcome home, Clare," Leo said quietly, his voice carrying a strange, heavy mixture of exhaustion, grief, and unyielding possession.
"This isn't my home," she replied bitterly, wrapping her arms tightly around her chest as the cold wind bit through her soaked uniform. "This is a gilded cage where you keep your trophies."
Leo’s jaw clutched tightly, but he didn't argue; instead, he placed his hand lightly against her lower back to guide her toward the warm interior of the main residence.
May you like
The massive oak double doors opened automatically, revealing a grand foyer adorned with marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and roaring stone fireplaces.
An elderly housekeeper in a crisp black uniform stood waiting near the grand staircase, holding a tray with a warm wool blanket and a cup of steaming tea.
