Chapter 6 - The Siege at the East Side
The blood drained entirely from Sienna’s face. The phone nearly slipped from her numb fingers.
“What?” Sienna gasped, her voice pitching up in pure terror. “Mrs. Gable, hide! Take Maya into the back closet and lock the door—!”
“I tried, dear, but they’re already in the hallway, they’re—click.”
The line went dead.
A dial tone droned softly in Sienna’s ear, sounding like a death knell.
She stood paralyzed for a fraction of a second—a fraction of a second too long—before the phone dropped from her hand, clattering against the hardwood floor of the private dining room.
Declan was already moving.
In the span of a single heartbeat, the sorrowful, broken man from a moment before vanished. In his place stood the syndicate king who had spent years ripping apart an international criminal empire from the inside out.
“Who was on the phone?” Declan asked, his voice sharp as a razor, devoid of any hesitation.
“My neighbor,” Sienna choked out, gasping for air as panic seized her throat. “Two men... they forced their way into the building. They’re looking for Maya.”
Declan’s eyes flashed with a lethal, terrifying dark fire. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a heavy, encrypted satellite phone with one swift motion, punching speed-dial three with his thumb while grabbing his car keys from the table with his other hand.
“Marcus,” Declan barked into the phone as he strode toward the door, pulling Sienna along with him by her wrist with an iron grip that left no room for argument. “Status report on the East Side safe perimeter. Give me an update now.”
A raspy voice crackled through the encrypted speaker. “Boss, we detected two unauthorized chatter units moving toward Miss Hale’s residential block five minutes ago. We thought they were local low-lifes, but they breached the secondary lock. Our extraction team is three minutes out.”
“Cut the time in half,” Declan commanded, his voice dropping into an absolute, chilling register that made Sienna shudder. “If those bastards touch a single hair on my daughter’s head, I want every single one of them buried in an unmarked grave before midnight. Move!”
He ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket, turning to Sienna as they burst out of the private dining room and sprinted down the hallway of L’Étoile toward the valet exit.
“Declan, my car is at my apartment—!” Sienna cried out as the cold winter wind hit them in the parking lot.
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“Forget your car,” Declan said harshly, opening the passenger door of his obsidian sedan and practically lifting Sienna into the seat before slamming it shut. He vaulted into the driver’s side, the massive engine roaring to life with a ferocious, guttural growl that shook the frost off the windshield.
The tires shrieked against the icy asphalt as Declan spun the wheel, launching the vehicle out of the parking lot and into the swirling snow of the Minneapolis night.
