My first wedding anniversary was supposed to celebrate the happiest decision of my life. Instead, I woke up chained in front of dozens of guests while my husband stood over me with a hammer, his mistress held scissors beside my face, and the people drinking champagne in my home watched as if my suffering were entertainment. / Chapter 22 / 60

Chapter 22 - The First Command

Two of the armed men grabbed Brandon by his armpits, dragging him kicking and screaming down the dark hallway toward the cellar stairs. His desperate pleas echoed off the high ceilings until a heavy oak door slammed shut, cutting off his voice completely.

Melissa tried to crawl toward the patio doors, but two enforcers stepped in front of her, their suppressed pistols pointed directly at her forehead.

"What about the woman, Boss?" Viktor asked before stepping out with Cooper.

I glanced at Melissa. She was huddled on the floor, clutching her red dress, her eyes wide with frantic, animalistic fear. The heavy silver fabric scissors she had used to cut my hair were still lying in my blood on the floorboards.

"Take her to the lower holding facility in Newark," I said flatly. "Put her in a room with a mirror and a pair of rusty shears. Let her sit there until she understands what it feels like to lose everything."

"No! Please! Emily! We were friends!" Melissa shrieked as the men dragged her away, her nails scraping uselessly against the hardwood floor.

Arthur Vance adjusted his charcoal suit jacket, watching me with a look of profound, terrifying respect. "A remarkably swift transition of power, Miss Yates. The Syndicate Council will be pleased. However, your physical condition requires immediate attention."

I looked down at my shattered legs. The agony had reached a plateau of dull, throbbing shock, but I knew my kneecaps were pulverized into fragments. I couldn't stand. I couldn't walk.

Dad stepped forward, kneeling beside me once more. His rough hands trembled as he touched my forehead. "Emily... let me take you to the private clinic in Westchester. Dr. Harrison is one of ours. He can rebuild the bone."

"No," I said, staring into my father's eyes. "Not Westchester. We go to the vault beneath the docks. Call Dr. Harrison there."

Dad blinked, surprised by my knowledge of the family's secret medical bunker. "You know about Pier 9?"

"I read your private ledgers when I was sixteen, Dad," I replied, a small, dark smile touching my lips. "Did you really think your truck driver act fooled me completely? I knew where the real money came from. I just hoped I'd never have to touch it."

Arthur Vance stepped forward, holding out a black fountain pen. "Sign the charter pages, Sovereign. Seal it in blood, and the entire Eastern Seaboard answers to you."

I took the pen. With shaking fingers, I signed Emily Yates across the thick parchment, smearing a droplet of my own blood across the golden seal.