Chapter 2 - Blood and Broken Crowns
The DeLuca manor smelled of gunsmoke, spilled wine, and fear.
Within two hours of the abduction, the grand estate had transformed into a war room. Capos, lieutenants, and street bosses—men who usually commanded respect across three states—sat around the massive mahogany table in the library, shouting over one another.
"We hit Carmine's docks tonight!" yelled Marco, a senior capo with bloodshot eyes. "We burn every warehouse he owns until he drops Vincent back on our doorstep!"
"Are you insane?" countered Antonio, the family’s chief consigliere. "If we rush in blind, Carmine executes Vincent before our foot soldiers even cross the river. We need leverage!"
"We don't have time for leverage!" Marco slammed his fist down, shaking the crystal glasses. "We have seventy hours left!"
"Enough!"
The voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the shouting like a razor through silk.
Every eye turned to the head of the table. Zara stood there, dressed no longer in her bloodied silk engagement gown, but in a fitted black tactical jacket, dark jeans, and heavy boots. Ghost sat rigidly at her left hip, his intense yellow eyes tracking every man in the room. His ears flicked at every sudden noise, his massive chest rising and falling in steady, rhythmic breaths.
Beside Zara stood Mrs. DeLuca—the matriarch who had spent years as a shadow, but whose eyes now blazed with terrifying clarity.
"You speak of Vincent as if he is already dead," Zara said, her voice terrifyingly calm as she paced toward the front of the table. "And you speak of war as if it’s a game of numbers. Carmine didn't take Vincent just to kill him. If he wanted Vincent dead, he would have put a bullet in his head on the dance floor."
Antonio leaned back, narrowing his eyes at her. "With all due respect, Miss Coleman, you are a social worker from Baltimore. You know how to counsel troubled teenagers. You do not know how to run a crime syndicate during an all-out war."
Zara didn't flinch. She leaned over the table, placing her palms flat against the polished wood.
"I spent five years in Baltimore’s social services dealing with the most vicious gang leaders, child abusers, and corrupt city officials you could imagine," she said, her voice dropping an octave. "I know how predators think. They don't strike out of strength; they strike out of desperation. Carmine lost three of his major smuggling routes last month because Vincent outmaneuvered him. Carmine is broke, Antonio. He took Vincent because he needs something specific."
Mrs. DeLuca stepped forward, placing a gentle yet firm hand on Zara’s shoulder. "Zara is right. And until my son returns, her word is my word. If any man in this room questions her, he answers to me."
The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. The capos exchanged tense glances, but none dared challenge the matriarch or the icy resolve in Zara's eyes.
"So," Marco muttered, crossing his arms. "What's the plan, social worker?"
"First, we find out who leaked our security protocols for the party," Zara said, her eyes sweeping over the lieutenants. "The attackers knew the exact rotation of our guards. They knew where the cameras had blind spots. There is a rat at this table."
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A collective murmur of outrage erupted, but before anyone could draw a weapon, Ghost let out a low, gut-rumbling growl that vibrated through the floorboards. The room instantly hushed.
"We have sixty-eight hours," Zara said, pulling a dark velvet pouch from her pocket and dropping a set of encrypted flash drives onto the table. "And we start by squeezing the man who sold out my fiancé."
