Chapter 11
The heavy mahogany doors slammed against their stops, completely shattering the serene, cinematic sunlight that had temporarily bathed the dining hall in a fragile peace. Marcus, the towering head of security for the Westbrook syndicate, strode in, his fair skin pale and slick with sudden sweat. He ignored Thomas entirely, his frantic eyes locked solely on his Boss.
“Dorian,” Marcus barked, dispensing with formalities. “We have a catastrophic breach at the northern logistics hub. A coordinated strike force wearing unmarked tactical gear just executed three of our warehouse managers. They bypassed the outer perimeter.”
Dorian’s jawline, framed by extremely short, neat stubble, locked into an expression of pure, unadulterated stone. His cold, perceptive eyes did not widen in panic; they narrowed into dark, lethal slits. He did not raise his voice. He simply turned his broad shoulders fully toward his security chief, his tailored charcoal suit emphasizing his deeply masculine, terrifying authority.
“Are we to assume… the Crane family… has chosen to accelerate their own demise?” Dorian inquired softly, the measured pauses in his deep voice dropping the temperature in the room to absolute zero.
“It’s heavily armed, professional mercenaries, Boss,” Marcus confirmed rapidly. “They hit us hard and fast. They’re attempting to lock down the primary distribution servers.”
Dorian slowly turned his head back to Thomas, the ruthless warlord taking absolute control.
“Will you proceed… immediately… to secure the residential wing?” Dorian asked his capo, his gaze intense and proprietary. “And ensure Lottie’s transport has left the city limits?”
“She is safely out of the blast radius, Boss,” Thomas confirmed.
Dorian offered a single, respectful nod. As Thomas turned and hurried toward the residential corridors, Dorian walked past Marcus, his artistic, tattooed hands adjusting his cuffs.
“Prepare the heavy assault teams,” Dorian commanded smoothly, stepping out into the bright foyer. “We are going to the hub. I want every single mercenary bleeding out on the concrete before noon.”
Share
