Chapter 6 - The Rival's Offer
I didn't lower the Beretta. My muscles remained coiled like steel springs, ready to fire at the slightest provocation.
"An alliance?" I scoffed bitterly, keeping my eyes locked on Marcus Vance. "Your family spent the last six months trying to bleed our territories dry in Europe, and now you stroll into a hospital room with an army? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't empty this magazine into your chest right now."
Marcus chuckled softly, stepping cautiously into the room while keeping his hands clearly visible.
"Because, Dante, your mother has officially declared war on the entire council," Marcus said, his tone turning serious as he pulled a folded document from his inner suit jacket and tossed it onto the edge of the medical cart. "Two hours ago, Elena Rossi executed a bloodless coup within your own syndicate. She claimed you were compromised by a civilian woman, declared you an exile, and seized total control of your family's assets. She put a multi-million-dollar bounty on your head, your wife's head, and your newborn son's head."
The room seemed to tilt on its axis.
I looked from Marcus to Grace, whose face had gone completely pale as she clutched our baby tighter against her chest.
"She put a bounty on her own grandson?" I whispered, the horror of my mother's depravity sinking in with paralyzing weight.
"Elena cares about one thing and one thing only: the absolute supremacy of the Rossi name," Marcus said flatly. "She doesn't care about bloodlines if they don't bow to her absolute authority. Which brings me to why I'm here."
Marcus pointed a finger at the document on the cart.
"That is a formal non-aggression treaty between the Vance family and what remains of your loyalists. If you sign it, I will lend you my private security detail, secure safe passage for you, Grace, and the boy out of the country, and give you the resources you need to strip your mother of her throne legally and permanently before the council."
I stared at the document, then back at Marcus. In the mafia world, alliances were currency, and trust was a luxury no one could afford. But looking at my exhausted wife and our newborn son resting peacefully against her chest, I knew the game had changed. This wasn't about syndicate pride anymore. This was about survival.
"What's your catch, Marcus?" I asked quietly. "The Vances don't do charity."
Marcus smiled, a faint nod of respect crossing his rugged features. "When you take back the Rossi estate and exile your mother to a cold, quiet retirement, I want exclusive trade rights over the northern shipping ports. That’s all."
I looked down at Grace. She met my eyes, giving a small, resolute nod. She knew as well as I did that we couldn't run forever. If we didn't end Elena's reign here and now, she would hunt us to the ends of the earth.
May you like
I lowered the Beretta, slid the safety back on, and tucked it into my belt. I picked up the pen resting beside the treaty.
"You've got a deal."
