Queens Take All

The tension in the dining room was so thick it felt suffocating. Marcus looked around the table, seeking support from the other family bosses. "Are we really going to let this happen?" he argued, pointing an accusatory finger at me. "Are we going to let a kid who isn't even born rule over our territories, our imports, our families? Roman is compromised by a woman from the streets!"

One of the older bosses, Don Carmine of the Genovese family, cleared his throat. He was an old-school mobster who valued tradition above all else. "Arthur Kane was a man of his word, Marcus. If he signed that codicil, he had a reason. But more importantly... Roman has never lost us a dime. His leadership has doubled our profits in the last five years."

"Because I allowed him to use my shipping lanes!" Marcus roared. He looked at Roman, his eyes wild with ambition. "This ends tonight. I’m calling for a vote of no confidence."

"You don't have the numbers, Marcus," Roman said calmly.

"Don't I?" Marcus smiled, a slow, sickening expression that sent a jolt of panic through my chest.

Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the dining room burst open. But it wasn't Roman’s guards who entered. It was a faction of our own men, led by Thomas—Roman’s second-in-command for New York operations. They had their weapons drawn, and they weren't aiming at Marcus. They were aiming at Roman.

"Thomas," Roman said, his voice entirely devoid of surprise, though his grip on my shoulder tightened until it hurt. "I wondered how much Marcus had paid you to forget who gave you your jacket."

"It’s not about the money, Roman," Thomas said, his hands steady as he leveled his pistol at Roman’s chest. "It’s about stability. We can't follow a man who lets his emotions dictate the future of the empire. Vivienne was right. The girl has to go."

My heart pounded violently. The baby began to kick frantically inside me, reacting to the sudden spike of adrenaline in my system. I reached into the folds of my green gown, my fingers brushing against the cold steel of the small derringer pistol Roman had given me. It only held two shots. I would have to make them count.

"You think you’ve won, uncle?" Roman asked, looking past Thomas to Marcus.

"I know I’ve won," Marcus said, stepping around the table. "Thomas will take over New York. I will take over the national council. And your little family... well, there’s a shallow grave waiting in the woods for anyone carrying the Kane name who doesn't fall in line."

Marcus walked toward me, his hand reaching out to grab the silk scarf from my head, wanting to humiliate me one last time in front of the commission.

But he underestimated a mother from Queens.

Before his hand could touch my face, I pulled the derringer from my gown, cocked it beneath the table line, and fired straight up through the mahogany wood. The bullet shattered the thick timber and tore directly through Marcus Vane’s outstretched palm.