Chapter 5 - The War Council
By five in the morning, the rain had stopped, leaving Manhattan bathed in the cold, violet light of dawn.
In the high-ceilinged dining room of the Valenti estate, Luca’s senior captains gathered around the long oak table. There was Marco, who controlled the waterfront; Paulie, head of security in Midtown; and Frank, the family’s political liaison.
At the head of the table sat Luca. To his immediate right sat Elena.
The captains had initially grumbled when Elena took her seat at the war council—a place traditionally reserved for seasoned killers and underbosses. But one cold look from Luca had silenced them instantly.
“Mercer knows Shaw is missing,” Paulie reported, tossing a surveillance report onto the table. “His men are tearing apart Brooklyn looking for him. They know something went wrong at the Hawthorne gala, but they haven't found a body, and the police haven't received a single call.”
“They won't find a body,” Luca said smoothly, taking a sip of black coffee. “Shaw is currently occupying a steel container at the bottom of the East River.”
Marco grinned. “Good riddance. But Mercer still has two hundred armed soldiers in Queens, Luca. If he realizes we’ve cleared his debt and seized his docks, he’s going to strike hard. He has nothing left to lose.”
“He has everything to lose,” Elena spoke up, her voice clear and commanding. The three captains looked at her, surprised by her authority.
She slid a series of financial printouts across the table.
“As of three0 minutes ago, Victor Vance successfully uploaded the debt acquisition files,” Elena explained. “Mercer’s primary creditors in Chicago have officially transferred his forty-million-dollar liability to Valenti Development. Legally, we now own every property Mercer operates.”
Frank, the political liaison, laughed in shock. “Wait... you bought his debt? How did you pull forty million dollars out of thin air?”
“We didn't buy it with cash,” Elena smiled faintly. “We traded three of our legitimate real estate holdings in Miami—holdings that were already scheduled for liquid asset restructuring. We turned static property into Mercer’s collar.”
She pointed to a specific line on the paper.
“Under New York commercial law, since Mercer defaulted on his loan payments three days ago, we have the right to execute an immediate asset freeze. I’ve already sent the legal notices to his banks. By eight o'clock this morning, every credit card, payroll account, and bank asset Mercer controls will be frozen solid.”
Paulie stared at her, his jaw practically dropping. “You froze his payroll? His soldiers won't get paid today?”
“Mercer’s men are mercenaries,” Luca added, leaning back in his chair with a slow, deadly smile. “They don't fight for loyalty; they fight for three thousand dollars a week. When their bank cards stop working at breakfast, half of Mercer’s army will walk away.”
Marco shook his head in absolute disbelief. “Miss Russo... you just disarmed an entire mafia family with a computer spreadsheet.”
“The spreadsheet is the trap,” Luca corrected, his tone turning sharp and lethal as he looked around the table. “The violence is still coming. Mercer is a wild dog. When he finds out he can't pay his men, he will gather his five most loyal lieutenants and come directly for us.”
He stood up, towering over the table.
“He knows I live here. He knows Elena is here. He will try one final, desperate assault on this house before the sun sets today.”
Luca looked at Paulie and Marco.
“Prepare the estate. Lock down the gates. Position shooters on the roof and in the gardens. We are not going to hide behind our walls.”
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He turned his dark eyes to Elena, his expression softening into something fierce and possessive.
“We are going to invite him inside—and end him.”
