Chapter 6 - Fifteen Men
By 3:00 AM, the party had ended.
The last limousine had rolled down the long gravel driveway, its taillights fading into the thick Chicago fog. The ballroom was empty, the champagne glasses collected, the crystal chandeliers dimmed to a soft amber glow.
In the subterranean security bunker beneath the estate, Matteo stood before a bank of twelve monitors displaying real-time video feeds from across the property, the perimeter gates, and the private access roads leading toward Lake Michigan.
Damon sat in a leather swivel chair, a glass of neat bourbon resting on the desk beside him. His tuxedo jacket was off, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong, corded forearms flecked with faint traces of dried blood that didn't belong to him.
The door opened, and the quiet-eyed security operative—a former military scout named Hayes—stepped inside, setting a heavy duffel bag on the steel floor with a dull, metallic thud.
"Done?" Damon asked without looking up from his tablet.
"Done, boss," Hayes reported, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. "Preston Caldwell and his four personal guards were loaded into the unmarked transport van twenty minutes ago. They’re currently on a one-way flight to a private contractor facility in the Mojave Desert, courtesy of our logistics division. Senator Caldwell has officially signed over his committee seat and announced his immediate retirement from politics due to 'unforeseen family health crises.' His resignation letter is already on the governor's desk."
Damon took a slow sip of his bourbon. "And the other ten?"
"Towed off the property. Their vehicles were dismantled and shipped to three different scrap yards in Indiana. As far as the Chicago Police Department and federal intelligence agencies are concerned, the Caldwell detail simply... dissolved. No bodies. No paper trail. No witnesses."
Hayes paused, looking at the monitor showing the perimeter gate.
"Fifteen men total, boss. Erased from the board."
Damon set his glass down. The amber liquid swirled against the crystal. He thought of Kate upstairs, sleeping peacefully for the first time in a year, her mother’s hospital debt wiped clean, her broken arm healing in the safest room in the city.
He had built his entire empire on blood, silence, and absolute control. He had always believed that mercy was a luxury for men who didn't rule the dark.
But tonight, looking at the empty security feeds, he realized something else.
Sometimes, mercy required a hammer.
"Hayes," Damon said quietly.
"Boss?"
May you like
"Double the security detail around the third-floor master suite. From now on, Kate Bennett doesn't clean rooms. She doesn't carry trays. She’s a guest in this house."
Hayes blinked, a subtle hint of surprise crossing his disciplined features before he nodded once. "Consider it done, Mr. Blackwell."
