Chapter 47 #2
"One family is gone." Nobody speaks. "Teajun says the Jersey City base is completely destroyed," Alex continues, his voice cracking slightly before hardening into stone.
"The two survivors they found are alive, but both are seriously injured. They're in critical condition."
Kai looks down at his boots, his hands curling into fists.
Victor stares straight through the windshield, his eyes fixed on the dark road ahead.
That single sentence sits between them in the cramped car like a fresh corpse.
One family is gone. People they have known for years.
People who have eaten at their table, protected their territory, and carried the Blackwood name with fierce loyalty without ever appearing in the newspapers.
All of them dead, because Alessio knows exactly where to strike, and he is no longer playing by the rules.
Alex continues driving, his knuckles white against the wheel.
"We need to prepare Lucius." Victor's eyes remain locked on the dark road ahead, cold and unblinking.
"He already knows." Alex glances at him through the mirror.
"You think?" Victor's answer is barely audible, yet entirely absolute.
"Lucius always knows." Within minutes, the massive iron gates of the ancestral mansion loom out of the shadows.
The guards open them instantly, and the car tears up the driveway, gravel scattering under the tyres.
Victor is out of the door before the car fully stops, stride unbroken as he enters the house with Kai and Alex in his wake.
The atmosphere inside is completely unrecognizable.
The quiet luxury has vanished, replaced by the frantic, heavy energy of an active war room.
Armed men move rapidly through the corridors, encrypted phones echo against the high ceilings, and military-grade maps cover the large tables.
Teajun stands near the grand staircase, looking bone-tired.
The moment his eyes land on Victor, his rigid posture softens slightly.
"You're back." Victor walks straight up to him.
"How bad?" Teajun sighs heavily. "I already told Alex."
"I want to hear it." Teajun takes a slow, steady breath.
"The Jersey City family base is destroyed. It was completely deliberate. They hit the residential wing first."
Victor’s expression turns menacingly cold.
"Children?" Teajun shakes his head immediately.
"No. None." Victor closes his eyes for a brief second, the tension in his chest releasing slightly. "Good."
Teajun continues his voice flat. "Two people survived, but they are in a bad way. One has massive internal bleeding; the other has multiple compound fractures."
Alex looks down, his jaw tight. "How many dead?"
Teajun hesitates for a fraction of a second, his voice dropping.
"Enough." The single word is quiet, but it tells them everything they need to know.
Victor turns his gaze toward the dark staircase.
"Where is Lucius?" "In the study." Victor walks away immediately, his boots clicking sharply on the marble.
Kai starts to follow but stops at the foot of the stairs.
Victor looks back, raising an eyebrow. "You come?"
Kai shakes his head, a grim expression on his face. "No. Go on. He needs you."
Victor nods and walks up to the study alone.
The heavy oak door is slightly ajar, throwing a sliver of warm light across the dim hallway.
Lucius is standing by the window, his back to the room, staring out into the pitch-black grounds.
Victor doesn't bother knocking, but before he can even cross the threshold, Lucius speaks.
"I know." Victor stops in his tracks. "How?"
Lucius turns slowly, his eyes bloodshot and dark with a dangerous quiet as they settle on his closest ally.
"Your face." Victor remains silent. Lucius walks over to his heavy mahogany desk, his movements slow and deliberate.
"Jersey City?" Victor nods once. "Destroyed."
"Survivors?" "Two." Lucius looks down at the desk, his hands resting on the edge.
For several long seconds, the silence in the room is suffocating.
Then, his eyes snap up, burning with a cold, lethal intensity.
"Alessio." Victor's voice is low and sharp.
"Yes." Lucius's face hardens into stone.
"How long were you in the air?" "Ten hours."
Lucius leans forward against the desk. "And he chose those exact ten hours."
Victor nods. "Yes." Lucius's lips curl into a terrifying, humourless line.
"Then he wants us to understand something. He isn't hiding anymore."
The weeks that follow dissolve into a gruelling blur of strategic preparation, quiet retaliation, and a heavy, suffocating silence.
The entire organisation knows a full-scale war is coming; they simply don't know the day or the hour.
Victor remains locked in America, working day and night beside Lucius to fortify their defences, while Kai moves constantly between the cyber division and the family's main communication lines.
Alessio's bloody strike has permanently altered the mansion.
No one walks the halls without a loaded weapon.
No one leaves the perimeter without informing Victor.
Every unfamiliar car within a five-mile radius is checked, every call is traced, and every scrap of Intel is verified twice.
But amidst the lockdown, there is one secret Victor keeps buried deep.
The phone he left behind in Italy remains completely switched off, hidden in a transit locker, dead to the world.
And that is exactly how it must stay. That phone holds the entire digital identity of his honey trap—his messages to Alicia, their meeting spots, and the breadcrumbs that could expose the entire infiltration.
Victor knows that if the Gambinos crack it, they will see exactly how they were played from the inside. So, he leaves it to rot.
And he never tells Emily. He never tells Olivia.
Neither woman has any idea about the honey trap or the sister Victor used to break Alessio's network.
Only the men in that study carry the truth.
For nearly a month, Victor becomes a ghost to Emily.
No calls, no texts, no explanations. At first, she waits patiently, trusting him.
Then the anger sets in, followed by a crippling worry.
Finally, late one freezing night, Victor's new phone rings on his desk.
He looks at the flashing name. Emily. He stares at it for a few seconds, his chest tightening, before he finally slides the screen. "Hello?"
There is a long, heavy silence on the other end.
Then, the sound of her trembling, fragile breathing breaks through the static.
"Victor?" His cold, military exterior cracks instantly, his voice dropping into something raw and soft.
"Hey." Her voice breaks completely. "Where have you been?"
Victor closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the chair.
"I've been busy, Emily." "Busy?" A bitter, painful laugh escapes her lips.
"It's been a month, Victor. One whole month. I haven't heard your voice for thirty days."
Victor sits down slowly, staring at his boots, the guilt heavy in his throat.
"I know." "No, you don't!" she cries out, the tears finally spilling over, her voice thick with pure misery.