Chapter 25 - The Shadow at the Threshold
Three months later, the Reyes estate was a sanctuary of absolute tranquility. The autumn winds had given way to the crisp, blooming air of early spring, painting the courtyard gardens in vibrant shades of violet and green.
Inside the master study, Damian was reviewing the final logistics manifests for their charitable foundation when his secure satellite phone—a device reserved strictly for emergency underworld channels—let out a sharp, encrypted beep.
Frowning, Damian picked up the handset. "Reyes."
Silence stretched across the line for a long moment, accompanied only by the faint hiss of static. Then, a distorted, electronically altered voice spoke four chilling words that froze the blood in his veins:
"The crown is empty."
Damian slammed his hand down on the desk, his eyes narrowing into cold slits of fury. "Who is this?"
The line clicked dead.
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At that exact moment, down in the courtyard, Sofia let out a joyful shriek as she chased a butterfly across the lawn. Elena stepped out onto the balcony, holding a warm cup of tea—this time made of fine, unblemished porcelain—and looked up at Damian through the open French doors, a serene smile on her face.
Damian stared back at her, a cold shiver running down his spine. The war was supposed to be over. The ghosts were supposed to be buried. But as he looked down at the silent phone in his hand, he realized with terrifying certainty that the throne of Chicago was never truly empty—and a new king was already knocking at the gates.
