Chapter 8 - Banished From The Estate
""Isa! Stop!"" Richi roared, sprinting down the hallway.
He burst through the grand entrance just in time to see a black taxi cab—called by one of the junior guards who hadn't yet heard the alarm—speeding out through the wrought-iron gates.
Richi ran into the downpour, drenched in seconds, his hands clenched into useless fists as the taillights vanished into the dark mountain road.
""Boss!"" Marco shouted from the veranda, holding an umbrella. ""We can intercept the cab at the highway junction! Let me send the strike team!""
""No!"" Richi barked, turning around, his face a terrifying mask of grief and murderous fury. ""If you chase her like a criminal, she will run further. Let her go to her sister's apartment in Brooklyn. Put twenty undercover men on her building. If anyone comes within ten feet of her, shoot them. But do not let her see you.""
He marched back into the house, dripping water onto the pristine marble floor.
""Assemble the inner council,"" Richi ordered, his voice trembling with a deadly vibration that made even seasoned enforcers step back. ""Every captain. Every boss from the five families. I want them in the Manhattan boardroom by midnight.""
""Don Richi,"" Marco said cautiously. ""Your father is fading fast. Dr. Rossi says—""
""My father will live long enough to see justice done,"" Richi snarled. ""Call the meeting.""
Meanwhile, three hours away in a cramped, drafty apartment in Flatbush, Brooklyn, Isa sat on an old corduroy sofa, staring blankly at a faded photograph of her father holding her when she was seven years old.
Her sister, Clara, sat beside her, gently rubbing her trembling shoulders. ""Isa, please drink some tea. You've been crying since you walked through the door.""
""He was innocent, Clara,"" Isa whispered, her voice hollow and ruined. ""Dad wasn't a thief. He wasn't a gambler. He was trying to stop monsters from selling young girls across the border, and they crushed him for it. And I... I fell in love with their prince.""
""You didn't know,"" Clara soothed her, wiping away a tear. ""None of us knew.""
""I let him touch me,"" Isa choked out, burying her face in her hands as racking sobs tore through her chest. ""Every time he looked at me, I thought he was seeing through my defenses. But all he saw was another piece of leverage.""
Suddenly, the rusted fire escape outside the third-floor window creaked sharply.
Clara jumped up. ""What was that?""
Isa stood up immediately, her instincts on high alert after weeks at the Valente estate. She approached the window cautiously, pulling the dusty curtain back by an inch.
Parked across the dark street were three unmarked black SUVs with tinted windows.
""They're already here,"" Isa whispered in terror. ""Richi sent his men to drag me back.""
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""No,"" Clara said, pointing down toward the street corner where two men in leather jackets were quietly screwing silencers onto semi-automatic handguns. ""Those aren't Valente men, Isa. Valente men wear tailored coats. Those are Castiglione soldiers from Jersey.""
Before Isa could scream, a smoke grenade shattered the living room window, tumbling across the carpet in a blinding hiss of toxic white fumes.
