Chapter 8 - The Shadow of the Commission
The takeover of the Lombardi territory was swift, but peace in the underworld was always an illusion.
Three weeks had passed since the night in the wine cellar. The news that Damian Russo was not only alive and healthy, but had completely swallowed the Lombardi empire, sent shockwaves through the Five Families of New York.
Inside the high-tech war room deep beneath the Russo estate, monitors flickered with live surveillance feeds from across the city. Maps of shipping lanes, warehouse logistics, and wiretapped audio files played across the glass screens.
Hannah stood at the center of the table, tapping rapidly on a sleek laptop keyboard. She had completely transformed the Russo family’s outdated intelligence network into a modern, lethal apparatus.
Damian stood behind her, his hand resting on the back of her chair, leaning over her shoulder as she analyzed a cluster of encrypted radio signals coming from the docks.
"The Syndicate Commission called an emergency meeting for Thursday," Hannah said, her eyes tracking code scrolling down the screen. "Don Moretti from the Brooklyn outfit is spearheading it. He’s claiming your absorption of the Lombardi territory violates the 1984 border agreement."
"Moretti is an old dog who barks when he's scared," Damian grunted, his breath warm against her cheek. "He wanted the docks for himself. He thought he could use Vivien's coup to carve up my northern border."
"He’s not just barking, Damian," Hannah said, pulling up a satellite feed of a warehouse in Queens. "He’s mobilized forty soldiers near your container terminals. They intend to ambush your supply trucks at midnight."
Damian’s eyes darkened. "Carlo!"
Carlo stepped into the room, holding a tablet. "I saw it, boss. The men are ready. We can roll six trucks of heavy enforcers and wipe Moretti’s boys off the map."
"No," Hannah interrupted smoothly, turning around in her chair to face both men. "A direct assault plays right into Moretti's hands. He wants a bloody war so he can petition the Commission to declare you unstable and sanction a unified hit."
Damian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you suggest, Hannah?"
Hannah pulled up a financial schematic on the main display screen. "Moretti’s entire operation is funded through an off-shore shell company based in the Cayman Islands. His soldiers haven't been paid in two weeks because he's overextended on his gambling debts in Atlantic City."
She tapped a single key.
"I just redirected his offshore accounts into an escrow fund managed by the Russo treasury," she said with a cool, dangerous smile. "In ten minutes, his capos will receive notification that their bank accounts are empty, and that Moretti used their retirement funds to pay off his bookies."
Carlo stared at the screen, his jaw practically hitting the floor. "You... you stole Don Moretti's money with a laptop?"
"I didn't steal it," Hannah corrected calmly. "I liberated it. When his soldiers realize he can't pay them for midnight security duty, they won't defend his warehouse. They'll abandon him."
Damian looked down at Hannah, a mixture of intense pride and lethal attraction surging through him. She wasn't just a partner; she was a force of nature.
"Send two cars to the Queens warehouse at midnight," Damian ordered Carlo, his eyes never leaving Hannah. "Not to fight. Just to collect the keys."
Carlo grinned widely, shaking his head. "Understood, Don Russo. I'll make sure Moretti gets the message."
As Carlo exited, Damian leaned down, wrapping his hands around the arms of Hannah’s chair, trapping her between his broad frame and the console.
"You are terrifying, Miss Vance," Damian murmured, his dark eyes burning with heat.
Hannah leaned back into the chair, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. "You hired me to protect your empire, Damian. I take my job very seriously."
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"Is it just a job, Hannah?" Damian asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous, intimate purr. He lowered his face until his lips were bare centimeters from hers. "Is that all this is?"
Hannah reached up, her fingers sliding into his dark hair, pulling him down into a searing, fierce kiss that answered his question far better than words ever could.
