Chapter 2 - THE PINK SUITCASE AND THE RED SUN
The cigar smoke hanging over the mahogany war table in the West Wing study didn't just linger—it felt heavy enough to choke a man.
Around the table sat six of the most dangerous captains in the Reyes Syndicate. Men who controlled shipping lanes, political appointments, and multi-million-dollar enforcement contracts across the eastern seaboard. On the wall hung a tactical map pinned with red markers denoting the Delgado family’s former territories.
And in the center of the room, standing on a Persian rug worth more than a house, was three-year-old Ruby.
She wore a faded yellow sundress with blue daisy prints. Her dark curls were tangled, and her eyes—wide, tear-filled, and terrifyingly clear—were locked onto Damon Reyes.
In her small left hand, she dragged a plastic, polka-dotted pink suitcase on squeaky plastic wheels.
"Boss," Victor, Damon’s chief of security, whispered, his hand instinctively dropping to his shoulder holster. "How did the kid bypass the second-floor guards?"
Damon didn't answer.
He didn't move. He sat in his tall leather chair, six-foot-three of tailored charcoal wool and lethal reputation, staring down at the tiny girl. Eight months ago, he had hired her mother, Selena, as a domestic worker after seeing her meek, terrified resume at a local agency. Selena was quiet, efficient, and never looked him in the eye. Ruby was usually kept in the staff quarters on the third floor, away from the syndicate's dark business.
Yet here she was, standing in front of six men who had killed for far less than an interruption.
Damon leaned forward, his heavy silver signet ring tapping against the armrest.
"Ruby," Damon said, his deep, gravelly voice dropping into a tone his lieutenants had never heard him use before—soft, steady, and unhurried. "Where is your mother?"
Ruby swallowed hard, her little bottom lip trembling violently. She took two tiny steps forward, the wheels of the pink suitcase squeaking against the hardwood floor.
"Upstairs," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner. "Mommy is crying into the sink."
Damon’s dark eyes narrowed. "Why is she crying, little one?"
Ruby reached into the front pocket of her pink dress and pulled out a folded piece of heavy cream cardstock. It was stained with dirt around the edges. She walked straight up to Damon’s chair, completely ignoring the five hardened mob bosses surrounding him, and pressed the paper into his broad palm.
"The mean man gave it to Mommy at the kitchen gate," Ruby whispered, leaning over to press her cheek against Damon’s knee. "He said if we don't pack the pink bag, he's gonna take me to the cold room where the dogs stay."
A suffocating silence descended upon the study.
Damon unfolded the paper. Written in thick, black calligraphic ink were eight words that shattered eighteen months of violent peace:
Tell your boss the Delgado family remembers Rafael. Tonight Salazar collects.
Damon’s grip on the paper tightened until his knuckles turned pure white.
Eighteen months ago, Damon had shot Rafael Delgado through the heart on a rainy dock in New Jersey, ending a four-year blood feud that had claimed thirty lives. Rafael’s younger brother, Salazar—a terrifying, ruthless strategist nicknamed El Buitre (The Vulture)—had vanished into the South American shadows immediately after.
Everyone assumed Salazar was dead, exiled, or broke.
"Victor," Damon said quietly, his voice dangerously still.
"Don Damon?"
"Bring Selena down here. Now."
Two minutes later, the double doors clicked open. Selena walked in, flanked by two armed guards. She looked pale as a ghost, her apron soaked with water and tears, her hands trembling so violently she had to cross her arms over her chest to hide it.
When she saw Ruby standing beside Damon’s chair, Selena let out a strangled gasp and rushed forward, dropping to her knees on the rug and pulling the child into her arms.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Reyes! I'm so sorry!" Selena sobbed, shielding Ruby with her body. "She ran out when I was trying to pack—I didn't mean for her to disturb your meeting! We'll leave! We'll take the back road right now—"
"Selena," Damon interrupted softly, standing up from his desk. His imposing shadow fell over both mother and child. "Look at me."
Selena hesitated, her tear-streaked face rising slowly.
"Who gave you this note?" Damon asked.
"A... a man in a gray delivery jacket," Selena stammered, her voice shaking. "He... he stepped out from behind the tree line near the service gate while I was taking out the linen. He knew my name, Mr. Reyes. He knew Ruby’s birthday. He told me... he told me if I didn't take my daughter and leave the property by sunset, he would burn the main house with everyone inside."
"Salazar Delgado," Victor muttered behind Damon, his face dark with dread. "He's back in the city."
Before Damon could respond, a high-pitched electronic chime echoed from the security console on the wall.
Victor checked the monitor instantly. His face drained of all color.
"Boss," Victor whispered, pulling his weapon from his jacket. "The perimeter motion sensors at Gate 4 just went dark. Someone cut the fiber-optic lines."
Damon looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows toward the driveway. The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in violent shades of blood-red and deep orange.
They weren't waiting for sunset.
They were already here.
May you like
Damon reached down, picked up three-year-old Ruby with one arm, and pulled Selena up by her elbow with his free hand.
"Lock down the estate," Damon commanded his captains as alarm sirens began to wail across the grounds. "Tonight, the Delgado family learns why I killed Rafael."
