Chapter 2 - The Whispers of the Syndicate
Damian stood in the middle of Khloe’s ruined living room, his body vibrating with a quiet, catastrophic rage. He picked up one of the bruised white lily petals from the floor and held it gently in his palm before slipping it into his pocket.
"Leo, call the inner circle," Damian commanded, turning on his heel. "Every captain, every dock foreman, every informant on the East Coast. If anyone has seen Julian Vance or his men in the last forty-eight hours, they report to me within thirty minutes."
"Boss, if we mobilize the entire family, the Commission will notice," Leo warned, stepping through the broken doorway. "The other four families will think we're going to war."
"We are going to war," Damian growled, his eyes burning like blue lightning. "I don't care about the Commission. I don't care about the territory agreements. They took Khloe."
Within twenty minutes, the basement of the Russo estate in Queens was transformed into a tactical war room. Maps of New York City, satellite grids, and financial wiretaps were laid out across the long mahogany table. Twelve of Damian's most dangerous lieutenants stood around the room, speaking in muted, tense tones.
Damian slammed his palms onto the table, shattering the silence.
"Julian Vance resurfaced this morning," Damian announced, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. "He took my executive secretary from her home. He left his mark. I want every property Julian ever owned, every warehouse he ever rented, and every associate he ever spoke to raided before noon."
A heavy-set captain named Marco cleared his throat nervously. "Damian... with all respect, Miss Hayes is a civilian. She's a secretary. Is it wise to risk the entire syndicate's legal standing for an employee?"
Before Marco could finish his sentence, Damian reached across the table, grabbed Marco by his collar, and yanked the two-hundred-pound man forward until their faces were inches apart.
"She is not just an employee," Damian whispered, his tone so terrifyingly calm that two guards near the door reached for their weapons. "She is the heart of this organization. She is my heart. If you question her value again, Marco, I will personally throw you into the East River."
Damian shoved Marco back into his leather chair. The captain nodded frantically, pale and sweating.
"Boss!" a tech specialist yelled from the bank of monitors in the corner. "We got a hit on a burner phone ping registered to one of Julian's former lieutenants, Frankie 'The Needle' Russo."
"Where?" Damian demanded, striding across the room.
"An abandoned meatpacking facility in Red Hook, Brooklyn. The signal pinged six minutes ago."
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Damian pulled a matte-black custom Sig Sauer pistol from his shoulder holster, racked the slide with a sharp, heavy metallic click, and checked the magazine.
"Leo, bring eight men," Damian ordered, pulling on his black leather gloves. "We're going to Red Hook."
