Chapter 9 - THE LAST SHADOW
The winter wind howling off the desert plateau shook the reinforced glass windows of the Reyes estate, but inside the private study, the air was warm, quiet, and steady.
Damon sat behind his mahogany desk, reviewing the final financial restructuring documents that would formally sever the last remaining shell corporations linked to the Romano syndicate. Next to him on the blotter rested the smooth, polished desert stone Ruby had given him weeks ago.
Knock. Knock.
The door opened without waiting for an answer, though it wasn't a small pair of patent-leather shoes this time.
Marcus stepped into the room, his expression tight, carrying a secure tablet and a hardcopy intelligence brief. He closed the heavy double doors behind him with a definitive click.
"Boss," Marcus said, keeping his voice low. "We just intercepted a digital transmission routed through a proxy server in Nevada. It originated from a maximum-security transport van moving between Florence and the federal district court in Phoenix."
Damon didn't look up from his papers at first. He turned a page, his fountain pen scratching softly against the heavy bond paper.
"Victor Lane?"
"Not Victor," Marcus replied, dropping the tablet onto the desk. "Victor is still cooperating in exchange for a reduced sentence. This message was sent by an external operative—one of the old Romano lieutenants who managed to slip across the border into Mexico before the initial sweep."
Damon finally raised his head. His dark eyes narrowed into cold, sharp slits.
"What does it say?"
"They aren't targeting the business anymore," Marcus said grimly, leaning his hands against the edge of the desk. "They know the federal RICO case is airtight and the assets are gone. They aren't trying to reclaim the real estate or the shipping lines."
"Then what do they want?"
"Retaliation," Marcus said flatly. "The operative is moving across the state line tonight with a small tactical unit. They aren't coming for the safe, and they aren't coming for you. They traced the staff residence records. They know Selena’s true federal identity, and they know where her family registry is archived."
Damon stood up so fast his leather chair rolled backward, crashing lightly against the wainscoting. The temperature in the study plummeted instantly.
"When do they cross the perimeter?"
"Midnight," Marcus said. "Unless we intercept them before they hit the north ridge."
Damon reached into his holster, checking the weight of his Sig Sauer, before sliding it back into place beneath his tailored vest. He picked up his coat from the back of the chair and pulled it on with cold, practiced efficiency.
"Lock down the estate," Damon ordered, his voice dropping into that terrifying, calm register that meant war. "Move Margaret and the kitchen staff into the reinforced panic shelter beneath the main cellar. No exceptions."
"And Selena and Ruby?" Marcus asked.
May you like
Damon stopped at the door, his hand resting on the brass handle.
"They stay in the master suite," Damon said. "And I’m going to make sure the men hunting them never make it past the outer wall."
