Chapter 5 - The Trap is Set
The private terminal at Logan International Airport was quiet when Julian Thorne arrived. He handed his passport to the elite concierge, eager to board his Gulfstream and put the Atlantic Ocean between himself and the terrifying reality sitting in his brother's manor.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Thorne," the concierge said politely, looking at her screen. "Your flight has been permanently grounded by the FAA. Mechanical failure on the runway."
Julian’s blood ran cold. "That's impossible. Get me another plane. Now."
Before the woman could respond, heavy footsteps echoed across the polished marble floor. Dante Cruz, flanked by four heavily armed syndicate enforcers, walked into the private lounge. They didn't draw their weapons, but the lethal intent rolling off them was enough to clear the room of all civilian personnel.
"Julian," Dante said smoothly, offering a chilling smile. "Change of plans. Silas wants you for family dinner."
"I have urgent business in Europe," Julian hissed, backing away toward the exit. "Tell my brother I'll call him when I land."
"You aren't landing anywhere," Dante stepped forward, his massive frame blocking the only exit. "You can walk to the SUV with your dignity, or I can drag you out by your hair. Silas gave me permission to break your legs. I'm hoping you choose the latter."
Julian realized he was trapped. He adjusted his collar, trying to maintain the illusion of control, and marched out to the waiting armored SUV.
Back at Blackwood Manor, Silas was making his own preparations. He had moved Elara into a heavily fortified panic room hidden behind his study, with Mrs. Gable and two of his most loyal guards stationed at the door. He was systematically clearing the manor of anyone whose loyalty was even slightly questionable.
May you like
Tonight, Blackwood Manor was not a home. It was an execution chamber.
Silas poured himself a glass of bourbon, watching the security monitors as the black SUV breached the front gates. He touched the vintage brass locket in his pocket. For Clara, he thought. And for Elara. The Thorne family tree was rotten to the core, and tonight, Silas was bringing an axe.
