Chapter 2 - The Golden Wolves Gather
The heavy oak doors of the grand entrance swung open as the first wave of elite guests filed through security.
Men in custom three-piece tuxedos stepped over the threshold, their eyes darting instinctively toward every corner and camera.
Beneath their tailored silk jackets, the unmistakable outlines of concealed firearms created subtle bulges.
Beside them walked their wives and daughters, shimmering like predatory birds wrapped in silk and satin.
Luna stood beside the carved marble pillars of the dining hall, pouring vintage champagne into crystal glasses.
Every woman who passed her carried an aura of untouchable prestige and absolute arrogance.
A stunning blonde in a crimson Valentino gown strode past, her heels clicking aggressively against the stone.
Her neck was encircled by a diamond choker that caught the chandelier light with dazzling ferocity.
She glanced at Luna for a brief second, her gaze sliding over the black maid uniform as if Luna were merely part of the drywall.
Luna kept her eyes fixed on the floor, waiting patiently for the woman to sweep into the crowd.
These heiresses knew the dark codes of their brutal fathers and brothers.
They understood maritime trade routes, customs bribes, and how to maintain an impassive face during violent retribution.
They were bred to be mafia royalty, groomed to stand beside a don while he ordered executions over dinner.
Luna was only the maid who brewed his dark roast coffee and pressed the creases into his shirts.
“Stop staring at the vultures, Luna,” whispered Sophia, slipping beside her with a fresh bowl of crushed ice.
Sophia was nineteen, relatively new to the estate, and constantly terrified of the armed guards roaming the corridors.
“Did you see the Russian girl who just arrived in the black limousine?” Sophia asked in an excited murmur.
“I only saw the cars pulling up to the courtyard,” Luna replied softly, keeping her hands busy with the bottles.
“Her name is Katarina Vulov,” Sophia whispered, leaning closer. “Her father controls all the northern shipping ports.”
“Maria said she brought a dowry agreement worth fifty million dollars in cash and freight contracts.”
Fifty million dollars was an abstract number that Luna’s mind could not even begin to comprehend.
She earned barely enough to keep her family fed and her brother enrolled in school back home.
The sheer financial weight of these families made Luna feel smaller than a grain of dust on the rug.
Suddenly, a heavy hand gripped the edge of the service station, shaking the fragile glasses.
Luna looked up into the cruel, weathered face of Vincent Torino.
Vincent had served as Don Salvatore’s primary enforcer for over twenty-five years, leaving countless bodies in his wake.
His cold, porcine eyes swept across the staff before locking firmly onto Luna’s face.
“You,” Vincent snapped, his voice rough and devoid of basic courtesy. “Luna Reyes.”
Luna’s stomach plummeted into an icy void.
In all her years working at the estate, Vincent had never addressed her by her full name.
“Yes, Mr. Torino?” she answered, striving to keep her voice perfectly steady.
“Drop the bottles,” Vincent commanded, motioning toward the corridor with a flick of his thick head.
“The Don wants you in his private study immediately.”
A gasp caught in Sophia’s throat beside her.
Luna’s fingers shook violently, and a crystal flute slipped from her grasp, shattering violently against the marble.
The sharp noise echoed through the immediate foyer, drawing cold glances from several armed guards near the door.
“Clean up your mess first, girl,” Vincent sneered with mild amusement. “The Don dislikes unpunctual servants, but he hates careless ones more.”
Luna dropped to her knees, hastily gathering the sharp shards into her apron pocket.
A sliver of glass sliced into her palm, but she did not dare cry out in front of the enforcer.
Her blood smeared the hem of her white apron as she stood back up.
Why would the supreme ruler of the syndicate summon a lowly foreign maid on the most important night of his life?
Had she overlooked an important security protocol while cleaning the upstairs suites?
Was she about to be dismissed and thrown into the street without her wages?
Or worse, had someone discovered her foolish, unspoken feelings for the young heir?
May you like
Vincent turned his back and walked away, expecting her to follow like an obedient dog.
Luna wiped her bloody hand on a clean cloth, took a trembling breath, and stepped after the executioner.
