Chapter 5 - CROSSFIRE IN THE MANORThe silence in the grand foyer was so absolute you could hear the distant crash of the Hudson River waves against the cliffside below.
Viktor Caruso stared at the microchip in Damian’s hand, his chest heaving as the trap snapped shut around him. For a man who had manipulated the New York underworld for decades, being outmaneuvered by his own nephew was a bitter, intolerable pill.
"You think a digital file saves you?" Viktor hissed, his voice trembling with suppressed fury. "Kill them. Kill them all and wipe the servers!"
"Do it, and the files go public before your bodies hit the marble," a cold, computerized voice chimed overhead.
Marco’s face appeared on the massive security monitors mounted above the double doors. He wasn't in the house—he was sitting in a command van half a mile down the cliff road, his finger resting squarely on a remote transmission override button. "The dead man's switch is locked, Viktor. Try anything, and the FBI gets the entire archive before you can even draw your piece."
Viktor’s guards hesitated, their weapons wavering between Damian and the exits. In the mafia, loyalty was bought with power, and a sinking ship had no crew willing to drown with the captain.
"Stand down," Damian ordered, his voice cutting through the tension like a switchblade.
When none of Viktor's men lowered their guns, Damian didn't wait. He drew his Glock and fired a single, deafening shot that clipped the crystal chandelier directly above Viktor’s head, raining a shower of glittering glass fragments over the older man's white suit.
"I said... stand down!" Damian roared.
The clatter of weapons hitting the marble floor echoed through the foyer like falling dominoes. The guards stepped back, raising their hands.
Viktor brushed a shard of glass off his shoulder, his lips curling into a cruel, desperate smile. "You think you won, Damian? You think because you have the girl and her mother back, the syndicate will just bow down to your domestic bliss? The Board of Directors will never accept a waitress as the matriarch of the Caruso family. There will be a coup before the week is out."
"Let them try," Damian replied coldly, stepping past his uncle without sparing him another glance. He grabbed Elena by the elbow, guiding her and Sofia toward the private elevators at the back of the foyer. "Marco, lock Viktor in the basement vault. Leave him there until I decide whether to feed him to the sharks or let the feds have him."
As the heavy steel doors of the private elevator closed, cutting off Viktor's laughing curses, Elena let out a breath she felt like she’d been holding for two years.
"Is it really over?" she asked, her voice shaking as the elevator ascended smoothly toward the penthouse level of the mansion.
Damian pressed his back against the wood-paneled wall of the elevator, closing his eyes for a brief second as the exhaustion finally broke through his iron facade.
"It's not over, Elena," he said, opening his eyes to look at her with an intensity that made her pulse race. "It's only just beginning. Now that the syndicate knows you're alive, you're the most targeted woman in New York."
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Elena looked down at Sofia, who had fallen back asleep against her shoulder, completely oblivious to the war raging around her. Then she looked back at Damian, realizing with terrifying clarity that her ordinary life as a restaurant waitress was gone forever.
She wasn't just a survivor anymore. She was a target. And worse—she was falling for the mafia boss who had just claimed her heart and her child.
