Chapter 5 - The War for the Crown
For forty-eight hours, Louisburg Square became an island surrounded by an invisible war.
While Dr. Aris operated on Daniel in the subterranean medical suite beneath the carriage house, the city outside went up in flames.
The television monitors in the safe house’s command room displayed a non-stop news stream: Ali’s Diner Destroyed in Gas Explosion... Search Underway for Missing Waitress... Police Commissioner Announces Task Force to Investigate Vance Syndicate Realignment...
Uncle Vane was systematically erasing every trace of us. My small apartment in East Boston had been raided by "unidentified federal agents." My bank account—all four hundred and twelve dollars of it—had been frozen under a court order. To the world, Anna Bennett was a suspect in a high-profile kidnapping.
To the men who began arriving at 402 Louisburg Square under the cover of darkness, I was something else entirely.
They were the loyalists—captains of the Vance estate, dock union leaders, private security chiefs who had served Daniel’s father for thirty years. They arrived in dark sedans, their faces grim, their coats hiding submachine guns, stepping into the carriage house to pay their respects to the man who lay recovering in the medical bay.
And every single one of them, upon entering the room, bowed their heads slightly to me.
I sat in a high-backed leather armchair beside Daniel’s bed, wearing a clean charcoal sweater and jeans that Dr. Aris had provided, holding Julian on my lap while Victoria slept peacefully in a wooden crib beside us.
On the third morning, the heavy iron door of the suite opened, and Daniel stirred.
The heart monitor’s steady beep... beep... beep remained strong. The color had returned to his face, his sharp jawline framed by a three-day growth of dark stubble.
His eyelids opened slowly, his brilliant blue eyes searching the room until they landed on me.
"Anna," he rasped, his voice rough from the breathing tube that had been removed twelve hours prior.
I set Julian down in the crib beside his sister and walked over to the side of his bed, pouring a glass of ice water from the metal pitcher. I raised the straw to his lips.
He drank greedily, his strong throat swallowing twice before he leaned his head back against the white pillows.
"Vane?" he asked flatly.
"He thinks you're dead," I said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. "He took over the shipping terminal in South Boston yesterday. He called a meeting of the Commission for tonight at the harbor country club to finalize the charter transfer."
Daniel’s hand crept out from beneath the white sheet, his thick fingers reaching for mine. His grip was warm, solid, and filled with a terrifying, absolute vitality.
"And my children?" he asked, his eyes softening as he looked past me toward the crib.
"They’re safe," I said. "Dr. Aris checked them over. They’re healthy, Daniel. They haven't cried since yesterday."
Daniel looked down at our joined hands—my small, pale fingers resting inside his massive, calloused palm.
"You saved my life, Anna," he said, his voice dropping into a low, intense rumble that vibrated through my chest. "You carried my blood, my legacy, and my children through the dark when every man in this city betrayed me."
"I just didn't want the babies to die in an alley," I whispered, feeling a lump form in my throat.
"You are not a waitress anymore," Daniel said, his thumb gently stroking the back of my wrist over my pulse point. "You will never scrub another floor, never worry about a rent check, and never run from anyone again. From this moment on... you belong to the Vance family. Under my protection. Under my name."
Before I could answer, the door swung open.
Marcus, Daniel’s head of security—a broad, intimidating man with a scarred neck—stepped into the room, carrying a heavy steel briefcase.
"Don Vance," Marcus said, bowing his head respectfully. "The loyal captains are assembled in the subterranean armory. The Commission meeting starts at 9:00 PM at the Harbor Club."
Daniel looked at Marcus, then turned his gaze back to me.
May you like
A cold, lethal smile spread across his face—the smile of the Lion of Beacon Hill returning to claim his throne.
"Get my suit, Marcus," Daniel commanded smoothly, pulling the IV line from his arm without flinching. "And prepare the fleet. Tonight... we go to the harbor."
