Chapter 5 - The Summit of Wolves
The Grand Ballroom of the Regency Hotel was wrapped in dark velvet and crystal chandeliers.
Seated around a massive oval oak table were the dons of New York’s five major crime families, surrounded by thirty armed bodyguards. Heavy cigar smoke filled the air, and tension hung thick enough to cut with a blade.
At the head of the table sat Dante Moretti—a cruel, heavy-set man in his late fifties with scarred cheeks and predatory eyes.
"Damian Conti is violating syndicate law!" Dante barked, slamming his fist onto the table. "He is hiding my late brother’s wife! She holds fifty million dollars in embezzled Moretti funds! I demand she be returned to my custody tonight!"
"Is that so, Dante?" a deep, thunderous voice echoed from the entrance.
The heavy double doors swung open.
Damian Conti walked into the ballroom. He wore a tailored charcoal tuxedo, radiating an aura of absolute, terrifying power.
Walking beside him, her hand resting gracefully over his arm, was Clara Vance. She wore an exquisite dark emerald silk gown, her dark hair styled in elegant waves, wearing a diamond necklace that belonged to Damian’s late mother.
And walking right between them, holding Damian’s hand with one glove and Clara’s with the other, was little Maya, wearing a matching green dress and her shiny yellow boots.
The entire room went dead silent. The hardened lieutenants stared in absolute shock.
Dante Moretti scrambled to his feet, his face turning purple with rage. "Conti! What is the meaning of this insolence?! Bringing a maid and a bastard child to a High Council summit?!"
Damian walked to the foot of the table, stopping directly opposite Dante. He gently let go of Maya’s hand, gesturing for Nico to step up and guard the little girl and Clara behind a row of Conti enforcers.
Damian leaned both hands flat on the oak table, towering over the room.
"First of all, Dante," Damian said, his voice dropping into a lethal, quiet register that made every man in the room hold their breath. "You will address my future wife with respect."
Clara’s heart slammed against her ribs. Future wife? She looked at Damian’s back, her eyes wide with shock and surging warmth.
"Second of all," Damian continued, pulling a thin silver flash drive from his tuxedo pocket and tossing it onto the table with a sharp CLINK, "this drive contains every transaction, every hit order, and every illegal wire transfer your brother Julian recorded before you had him murdered."
Dante froze. His eyes bulged with terror.
"Under the laws of the High Council," Damian announced, turning his cold gaze toward the senior dons seated at the table, "Dante Moretti stands accused of murdering his own blood, embezzling syndicate funds, and plotting a war against the Conti family. I present this evidence for immediate execution of judgment."
Don Falcone, the oldest boss in the city, picked up the silver drive, slotted it into a reader, and scanned the files. Five seconds later, Falcone looked up at Dante with disgust.
"The evidence is absolute," Falcone declared flatly. "Dante Moretti is stripped of his rank, his territory, and his protection."
"You can't do this!" Dante screamed, pulling a concealed pistol from his waist coat! "I'll kill you all!"
PAK!
A single suppressed shot echoed through the ballroom.
Dante Moretti collapsed onto the table, a bullet hole through his shoulder, his gun spinning across the floor. Damian stood with his hand extended, holding a smoking pistol he had drawn with blinding speed.
"You don't die today, Dante," Damian growled, walking over and grabbing Dante by his collar. "You spend the rest of your miserable life in a federal prison cell. Nico, hand him over to the District Attorney."
Nico and two guards dragged the screaming, bleeding traitor out of the ballroom.
May you like
Damian turned back to Clara and Maya. He walked over, picked Maya up in his arms, and offered his hand to Clara.
"Let’s go home," Damian said softly.
