CHAPTER 9
The paper crumpled inside Vincent’s fist with a sharp, violent sound that cut through the chilly night air. He didn't raise his voice; he didn't slam his fist against the stone railing, but the silence he projected was deadly.
"Let them demand," Vincent said softly, his tone icy enough to freeze the blood inside a man's veins.
"Boss, the five families have assembled at the harbor," Frank urged, his hands trembling slightly at his sides. "If you don't show up with her by midnight, they will declare open war on every Moretti territory in the city."
I turned around in Vincent's arms, my hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as terror seized my chest once more. The nightmare wasn't over; it had simply grown larger, threatening to consume the man who had saved my life.
"Vincent, no," I begged, tears welling up in my eyes as I looked into his dark, unwavering face. "I won't let you risk everything you’ve built for me. I’m just one person. Don't fight the whole city for me."
Vincent placed his broad hands on my shoulders, holding me firmly in place while staring directly into my tear-filled eyes.
"Listen to me very carefully, Lena," he said, his voice ringing with absolute, terrifying conviction that shook me to my core. "I built this empire with my own blood so that no man could ever tell me what I can or cannot protect."
He turned his head to Frank, giving an order that instantly shifted the entire estate into a high-alert war footing.
"Prepare the armored fleet," Vincent ordered, his eyes glowing with a dark, dangerous fire. "We are going to the harbor."
"Boss, you can't bring her into a Commission meeting," Frank warned, stepping forward with genuine concern in his voice. "The old rules state that an accused civilian must stand trial before the five heads of the families."
"I am not bringing her to a trial, Frank," Vincent stated calmly, pulling a custom silver pistol from his desk drawer. "I am bringing her to watch me dismantle the old rules once and for all."
Twenty minutes later, a convoy of six black armored SUVs tore out of the estate gates, speeding toward New Jersey. The rain had returned, slicking the highways as we bypassed all traffic with police-grade siren lights hidden in the grilles.
I sat beside Vincent in the back seat, holding his left hand tightly while he loaded spare magazines with steady fingers. He didn't look nervous; he looked like a soldier stepping onto a battlefield he had already won a hundred times before.
"Are you afraid?" he asked softly without looking up from his weapon.
"Only for you," I whispered, squeezing his calloused fingers with all the strength I had in my hand.
Vincent offered a small, dark smile, sliding the loaded pistol into his shoulder holster before leaning over to kiss my forehead.
"Never fear for me, little bird," he murmured softly against my skin. "Tonight, the city learns who really rules New York."
The convoy pulled into an abandoned shipping terminal on the New Jersey coast, surrounded by towering rusted containers and grey ocean fog. Dozens of luxury cars were parked in a massive circle, their headlights aimed at a central open floor.
Over fifty men in dark coats stood in the shadows, armed with heavy automatic weapons, their faces hidden by the dense mist. At the center of the light sat four elderly men in expensive overcoats, sitting on folding chairs like a kangaroo court.
Our car came to a smooth halt in the middle of the circle, surrounded on all sides by guns aimed directly at our doors.
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Vincent looked at me one last time, his hand gently resting on the back of my neck to keep me grounded.
"Stay behind me," he instructed calmly, unlocking his door. "And don't look away, no matter what happens next."
