Chapter 35

The transition from the opulent, crowded ballroom to the soundproof, private gallery was a journey from a sophisticated party into a lethal trap. Voss and his three bodyguards walked into the room, expecting a tense negotiation. They were profoundly mistaken. As soon as the heavy oak doors clicked shut, the illusion of diplomacy vanished. Marcus and Ethan, Alexander’s most lethal capos, stepped out from behind the heavy velvet curtains, their suppressed automatic weapons raised and aimed directly at the European bodyguards. “Drop your weapons,” Marcus commanded, his American accent crisp and absolute. The rogue guards hesitated for a fraction of a second. Alexander moved with explosive, blinding speed. He closed the distance to Voss, grabbed the heavy lapels of the warlord’s suit, and hurled the massive man violently across the room. Voss crashed into a heavy wooden pedestal, shattering a priceless crystal vase. The European bodyguards instantly surrendered, dropping their handguns onto the thick Persian rug. Alexander stood over the groaning warlord, his tailored tuxedo completely unhindered by the exertion. “Did you truly believe you could walk into my domain and use my wife to leverage my throne?” Alexander whispered, his voice a vibrating hum of absolute danger. “Did you assume I would bring my family to an unsecured location?” Voss gasped for air, his arrogant facade entirely shattered by the terrifying reality of the Mafia boss.

>>Chapter 36