Chapter 15 - Dawn over the AtlanticBy 6:00 AM, the storm clouds over the Atlantic had parted, leaving behind a razor-sharp horizon painted in brilliant shades of amber and violet.
The private airstrip behind the Ashworth estate hummed with activity. A sleek, private Gulfstream jet idled on the tarmac, its turbine engines whining softly in the cold morning air. Two European security agents stood by the boarding stairs, holding Helena Voss by her elbows—her emerald coat ruined, her wrists zip-tied neatly behind her back.
She looked thoroughly defeated, her spirit broken by a syndicate that operated faster and harder than anything her corporate board had ever imagined.
Julian stood near the edge of the tarmac, his hands tucked into the pockets of his overcoat.
Camille stood beside him, holding a steaming cup of coffee, while little Elsie sat on the ground nearby, using her broken green crayon to draw a very detailed, lopsided picture of a dog on a flat piece of cardboard.
Rex sat squarely beside the child, his dark eyes fixed on the departing jet.
"She'll be in Hamburg by tomorrow afternoon," Camille said quietly, watching the agents escort Helena up the plane stairs. "Her father will receive her message loud and clear. The North Sea routes belong to Salvatore now, and our perimeter is sealed."
"Good," Julian murmured, taking a sip of his coffee. "I prefer quiet mornings. The noise is bad for the estate's acoustics."
Camille let out a soft, dry chuckle—a sound that only Julian ever got to hear. She turned her head, looking up at him with those deep, level dark eyes.
"You know, for a mafia boss who claims to hate complications, you seem to attract an extraordinary number of international crises, Julian."
"Complications keep the mind sharp, Mrs. Rivera," Julian replied, a warm, subtle smile touching the corners of his mouth. "Besides, without them, how else would we test the security system?"
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Down on the grass, Elsie finished her drawing, held it up proudly for Rex to inspect, and patted the dog's massive head. Rex gave a single, approving tail-wag, rested his heavy chin back on his paws, and closed his eyes against the morning sun.
Julian looked down at the tiny green crayon stub hidden safely inside his coat pocket, feeling the familiar weight of it against his chest. The house was safe. The shadows were clear. And for the first time in his life, the master of the estate had no intention of going anywhere else.
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