Chapter 6 - The Council of Shadows
The grand mahogany doors of the Vane Syndicate headquarters council room loomed like the gates of a fortress. Inside, the eleven members of the high council sat in absolute silence, bathed in the pale morning light filtering through stained-glass windows. At the center seat—the one traditionally reserved for the head of the family—sat Julian Cross, looking entirely too comfortable.
Flanking him were several capos who had abandoned Leandro’s banner overnight.
The heavy oak doors swung open with a resounding bang.
Leandro walked in first, his stride unhurried, his expression carved from stone. Behind him stepped Daphne and Estelle, flanked by a phalanx of heavily armed loyalists who immediately fanned out, sealing all the exits.
Julian Cross didn't flinch. He slowly steepled his fingers, offering a condescending, polite smile.
“Leandro. We were just discussing your untimely absence,” Julian said smoothly, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. “Given your mother’s treasonous activities at the docks last night, the council has convened an emergency vote to strip you of your title.”
“You convened an illegal tribunal based on manufactured evidence, Julian,” Leandro said, stopping dead center in the room, his eyes locked onto the man usurping his seat.
Julian chuckled, shaking his head. “Evidence? The shipping manifests found at the pier bear your family’s seal. Maribel confessed before she... unfortunately disappeared. The syndicate cannot survive under a leader compromised by his own bloodline.”
Julian looked around the room, expecting nods of agreement from the capos. Instead, complete, suffocating silence met his words.
Leandro pulled the charred ledger from his coat and tossed it carelessly onto the polished mahogany table, sliding it right across to Julian’s plate.
“You missed a page, Julian,” Leandro said softly.
Julian glanced down at the ledger. For the first time, a flicker of genuine panic crossed his composed features as he recognized the notary seal of his own offshore accounts.
“This is a forgery,” Julian snapped, standing up abruptly from the chair.
“Is it?” Estelle stepped forward, her voice cutting through the room like a razor. “Because I personally audited those exact account numbers three hours ago. Every single bribe you paid to our capos traces directly back to your personal Swiss holdings.”
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Julian’s face drained of color. He looked around the room at the capos, who were now glaring at him with murderous intent. He had played his hand too early, believing Leandro was cornered.
“Kill them,” Julian screamed, lunging backward toward the secret exit behind the dais.
