Chapter 9 - The Alliance of Traitors
While I was crippling Vivienne’s finances, Roman was on the streets. By the time the mercenaries realized their bank accounts were empty, Roman’s strike team had already surrounded their hideout in an abandoned warehouse near the navy yard.
The rescue of Marcus was swift and bloody. Roman didn’t leave a single mercenary alive, save for their leader, a man named Viktor who had previously worked for the Russian syndicate.
By 3:00 AM, Roman returned to the estate. I was waiting for him in his study, a glass of scotch poured and waiting on his desk. He walked in, his shirt stained with gunsmoke and sweat, his knuckles bruised.
He didn’t say a word. He just walked straight to me, pulled me into his arms, and buried his face in my neck.
“Marcus is alive,” Roman said, his voice weary but relieved. “He’s at the private clinic getting patched up. Viktor talked before he died.”
I rubbed his back, feeling the tension in his muscles. “What did he say?”
Roman pulled back, his eyes serious. “Vivienne wasn’t working alone. She couldn’t have pulled off a heist of that scale by herself. She had help from inside the council. Dominic.”
I gasped. “Dominic? But he was the first one to pledge loyalty to Valentina.”
“It was a front,” Roman hissed, walking over to the window and looking out at the rainy night. “Dominic has been secretly allied with the Moretti family in Chicago. They wanted to eliminate me, put Vivienne back in power as a puppet, and split the Kane shipping routes. Dominic knew about my father’s will, and he knew that if Valentina took over, the Chicago alliance would be dead.”
“They’re going to move against us,” I realized, my heart hammering against my ribs. “If they know we rescued Marcus, they know their cover is blown.”
“They’re already moving,” Roman said, turning back to me. “Dominic called an emergency meeting of the five families for tomorrow night at the Plaza Hotel. He’s going to call for a vote of no confidence against me, claiming I’m unfit to rule because I let a woman run my finances and my daughter inherit the throne.”
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I walked over to his desk, picking up the glass of scotch and handing it to him.
“Then we don’t give them a choice,” I said, my voice steady and cold. “We don’t just go to that meeting to defend ourselves, Roman. We go there to eliminate the competition.”
