Chapter 9 - THE INVITATIONThe rain continued to hammer the slate roof of the Vale estate as midnight approached.
Inside the grand foyer, the massive crystal chandelier cast a brilliant, glittering light over the marble floor. But the warmth of the house felt fragile, like a thin layer of ice over a deep, black lake.
Mia sat at the kitchen table, helping Harper color a picture of a golden retriever while soft classical music played from the stereo. Despite the lingering trauma of the cellar, the little girl was laughing, her small hands clutching pink and yellow crayons with fierce concentration.
Down the hall in the study, Dominic stood in front of the walk-in armory built into the oak bookshelves.
He was sliding a fresh, extended magazine into a customized Glock 19, the metallic clack echoing sharply in the confined space. Beside him stood Marcus and Daniel, both wearing tactical vests over their dark suits, checking the safety switches on their submachine guns.
“Miller’s informants tracked Vincent Vance’s vehicle,” Marcus reported, tapping a digital tablet on the desk. “A black Cadillac Escalade rented at JFK. Four men in the car, heavily armed, heading north on the Taconic State Parkway. Estimated time of arrival to the estate gates: twenty minutes.”
Dominic didn't look up from his weapon. He racked the slide, chambering a hollow-point round with practiced ease.
“Let them through the outer gates,” Dominic said coldly.
Marcus blinked, staring at his boss in surprise. “Boss? You want to let a hit squad onto the property?”
“If we stop them at the highway, it becomes a war zone,” Dominic explained, sliding the pistol into his shoulder holster and buttoning his suit jacket. “If we let them walk right into the foyer, it becomes a private conversation.”
Daniel crossed his arms, a grim smile touching his lips. “You want to invite the wolf right into the living room?”
“I want to send a message to Montreal,” Dominic said, his eyes flashing with cold, calculating light. “Tell the boys to position themselves along the upper balcony and the western corridor. No one fires until I give the word. And under no circumstances do they get within fifty feet of the kitchen.”
Marcus nodded sharply, turning toward the comms unit to relay the orders.
Dominic walked out of the study and down the grand hallway. As he passed the open kitchen door, he paused for a brief moment.
Mia looked up from the table, catching his eye in the mirror above the sink. She didn't ask what was happening. She didn't panic. Her intuition—honed by three years of living in the shadow of an empire—told her everything she needed to know.
“Lock the inner kitchen door, Mia,” Dominic said softly.
Mia stood up, walked across the tile floor, and slid the heavy brass bolt into place with a definitive click. She didn't look away from his eyes.
May you like
“Be careful, Dom,” she whispered through the wood.
Dominic didn't answer. He simply turned on his heel and walked toward the grand foyer, stepping out into the open space beneath the crystal chandelier to wait for his guests.
