Chapter 6 - The Feast of Vipers
The grand dining hall on the main floor of the estate looked like something out of a medieval castle. A massive mahogany table stretched down the center of the room, lit by the warm glow of crystal chandeliers and dozens of flickering black candles. Around the table sat half a dozen men and women—the inner circle of the Valente empire, regional capos, and syndicate officers whose very names struck fear into the citizens of Port Aurelia.
When Dante walked in with Emily on his arm, a sudden, heavy silence fell over the room.
Every eye turned toward them. Some looked curious, some looked outright hostile, but all of them were tracking Emily with predatory intensity. Brutus walked heavily beside them, his massive head held high, acting as an unyielding escort that kept the capos at a respectful distance.
"Sit," Dante instructed Emily, pulling out the chair at the head of the table—traditionally reserved exclusively for the boss—and seating her directly beside him.
Marcus Vance cleared his throat from further down the table, his eyes gleaming with suppressed malice. "Dante, surely an outsider... a civilian... shouldn't be seated at the high table for a syndicate council meeting. Protocol dictates—"
"Protocol dictates what I say it dictates, Marcus," Dante interrupted, his voice cutting through the hall like a razor blade. He didn't even look at his consigliere as he poured a glass of deep red Barolo wine and slid it across the table toward Emily. "Miss Parker is under my direct protection. Anyone who has a problem with her presence is welcome to stand up and say it to my face right now."
Silence descended again. No one moved. Even Marcus lowered his gaze, though his jaw muscles clenched tight enough to crack stone.
Across the table, Elena Rostova leaned forward, flashing a brilliant, razor-sharp smile that didn't reach her dark eyes. "Well, we must welcome our new... guest," Elena purred, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "It’s not every day a stray dog brings home a stray woman. Tell me, Miss Parker, do you have any background in managing a criminal empire, or are you just here for the wardrobe?"
Emily didn't flinch. She picked up her wine glass, took a slow, deliberate sip, and set it back down before meeting Elena’s gaze head-on.
"I have experience dealing with rabid animals, Ms. Rostova," Emily replied smoothly, her voice clear and steady in the cavernous room. "Managing a few more around this table shouldn't be much different."
A sharp intake of breath echoed down the table. For a second, Elena’s polite smile slipped, revealing a flash of genuine, murderous fury.
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Dante let out a low, dark chuckle beside her. He reached out, his hand resting possessively on the back of Emily’s chair, his fingers brushing her bare shoulder. He looked across the table at Elena with eyes like shards of ice.
"Careful, Elena," Dante warned softly. "She bites harder than she looks."
