Chapter 11 - The War Council
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The following morning, the mansion was a fortress on high alert.
The breaking of the engagement was not a quiet affair. The Morrow family had reacted exactly as expected. They withdrew their security from the shared harbor routes, leaving Dominic’s shipments vulnerable. Whispers of war echoed through the Rhode Island underworld.
Dominic convened his capos in the massive library. The air was thick with cigar smoke and tension.
“Vito Morrow is furious,” Silvio, Dominic’s underboss, reported grimly. “He says you insulted his daughter and his honor. The Russians are already smelling blood. If we don't retaliate fast, they’ll move on the northern docks.”
“We fortify our positions,” Dominic commanded, leaning over a map spread across his mahogany desk. “Double the guard at the warehouses. Any Morrow men crossing our lines are to be considered hostile.”
“Boss, with all due respect,” another capo interjected nervously. “Starting a war over a broken engagement… was she really that bad?”
Dominic’s head snapped up. His dark eyes fixed on the man, pinning him with a stare so lethal the capo physically recoiled.
“She threatened a child under my protection,” Dominic stated, his voice a low, vibrating hum of pure violence. “And she planned to dispose of my mother. If any of you question my judgment on this again, you can walk out that door and join the Morrows.”
Silence fell over the room. No one questioned him again.
Upstairs, in the east wing, a different kind of quiet settled over Isabella’s room.
Marin sat beside the window, watching the rain lash against the glass. Eli was coloring quietly on the floor, supervised by one of the younger guards who seemed entirely charmed by the boy.
Isabella tapped her board twice.
Marin looked over. Isabella had written a new message.
You stayed.
Marin offered a tired smile. “I didn't have much of a choice, Isabella. Vivien knows where my sister is buried. She knows everything about me. I can't run.”
Isabella frowned, her frail hand moving awkwardly over the board.
Not captive. Protected.
May you like
Marin looked at the words. She looked out the window at the heavy iron gates of the mansion. It was true that she was trapped by the circumstances, but for the first time in her life, she wasn't fighting alone. The most dangerous man in New England had burned an alliance to the ground to keep her and her son safe.
“I know,” Marin whispered.
