Chapter 5 - The Summit of Wolves
The mahogany conference table in the Faust estate's formal dining hall had been cleared of its usual place settings and replaced with maps, shipping manifests, and cryptographic keycards.
It was Thursday evening, twenty-four hours before the high-stakes summit with the Chicago Syndicate council, and Rourke was preparing for war.
"The Council is testing us," Rafe said, slamming a heavy folder down onto the wood. "They know the cargo was hit at the docks, and they know about the warning note at the west gate. They think weakness is spreading through the Faust family."
"Weakness?" Rourke sat at the head of the table, his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes like shards of obsidian. "Let them come to this house tomorrow. I'll show them how weak I am."
Vance sat a few chairs down, leaning back comfortably, twirling a gold pen between his fingers. "Perhaps the Council has a point, Rourke. Ever since... well, since the tragedy three years ago, your focus has been divided. Between the business and the children. And now, bringing an outsider—a nanny—into the inner sanctum..." Vance let out a smooth, pitying chuckle. "It sends the wrong message to the families."
Rourke slowly turned his head to look at Vance. The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush bone.
"My children are my legacy, Vance," Rourke said, his voice dropping into a low, deadly register. "And Ms. Hensley is entirely outside your jurisdiction. If I ever hear you question her presence again, I won't demote you. I'll feed you to the gators in the Everglades myself."
Vance’s smile faltered for a microsecond before he recovered his oily composure. "Just looking out for the syndicate's interests, boss. Naturally."
Upstairs, far away from the tension of the war room, Ivy was keeping watch over Ezra and Mabel. The twins were fast asleep in their beds, clutching their stuffed animals, completely unaware of the dark political storm raging around them.
Since the break-in attempt at her door two nights ago—which had turned out to be a false-alarm test orchestrated by Rourke’s loyal guards to test her reflexes—Ivy had remained on high alert. She kept a heavy iron fireplace poker hidden beneath her mattress and a burner phone tucked inside her vanity drawer.
She knew Vance was the leak. She had the logs proving he had overridden the security system. But she also knew that if she went to Rourke without airtight physical proof connecting Vance to an external enemy, Vance’s smooth tongue and deep ties to the syndicate elders might turn the tables, framing her as the spy.
She needed to catch Vance in the act during tomorrow's summit.
May you like
The summit was designed to be a closed-door meeting between Rourke and the three regional capos of the Chicago underworld: Sal Marcone, a brutal old-school loan shark; Marcus Vance (Vance’s uncle and a powerful elder on the council); and Rourke himself.
The estate would be crawling with armed guards, external drivers, and rival bodyguards. It was the perfect smokescreen for an inside job.
