Chapter 9 - The Sovereign
Silence returned to the Grand Ballroom, heavy, thick, and absolute.
The emergency red lights cast long, dramatic shadows across the ruined marble floor, shattered glass, and fallen gunmen.
Darius stood near the wall, wiping a thin smudge of blood from his cheek with a crisp white handkerchief. He re-holstered his weapon, adjusted his velvet lapels, and turned slowly toward the marble pillar.
“Mireia,” he called out softly, his voice returning to its calm, velvet smooth tone. “It’s over.”
Mireia stepped out from behind the pillar, holding Alyssa’s hand tightly. She looked at the scene of absolute destruction—at the fallen men who had terrorized her family’s legacy, and at Dominic Rossi lying motionless against the wall.
Then she looked at Darius.
He didn't look like a monster to her. He looked like a protector. A man who had stood between her and absolute destruction without wavering for a single second.
Outside the ballroom, the sound of heavy police sirens began to echo through the city streets.
Marco walked over to Darius, handing him a satellite phone. “Police Chief Miller is on line one, boss. He’s securing the perimeter and declaring this an active anti-terrorist operation. The press will be told it was a targeted hit on Chicago cartel operatives.”
“Good,” Darius said smoothly, taking the phone. “Ensure Richard Dalton is transferred to federal custody in New York where Rossi’s remaining men can’t touch him.”
He walked over to Mireia, his iron-grey eyes softening as he looked down at her face. He reached out, gently touching her cheek, wiping a small speck of plaster dust from her skin.
“Are you hurt?” he asked softly.
Mireia shook her head. “No. I’m okay.”
She looked at her younger sister, who was still shaking softly. Mireia wrapped her arms around Alyssa, holding her close.
“Alyssa is coming with us,” Mireia said, her voice filled with absolute authority. “She’s never going back to our father’s house.”
Darius offered a rare, genuine smile. “Your sister is welcome in my home for as long as she wishes.”
Alyssa looked up at Darius, tears in her eyes, before looking at Mireia. “Mireia... I don't know what to say... I’m so sorry for everything Caleb did... for everything Father did...”
“It’s over, Alyssa,” Mireia said gently, wiping her sister’s tears. “We are done being victims in this family.”
Darius held out his hand to Mireia once again.
“The city is waiting, Miss Moretti,” Darius said softly. “It’s time to take your throne.”
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Mireia looked down at the silver signet ring on her finger—the crescent wrapped in flame that had survived thirty years of dark secrets, blood, and betrayal. Then she looked up into Darius’s eyes, placing her hand securely in his.
“Lead the way, Mr. Villano.”
