Chapter 10 - Goliath’s Fury: The Midnight Raid on the Iron Foundry
Goliath crossed the polished ballroom floor in a fraction of a second.
The eighty-pound Cane Corso launched off the marble steps, hitting Dominic Vance with the force of a battering ram. The impact threw Dominic over the decorative brass railing of the mezzanine, sending both man and dog crashing down onto the lower banquet table in a shower of splintered mahogany, crushed crystal, and roasted meats.
Dominic scrambled backward through the food, shrieking in absolute terror as Goliath pinned his right arm to the floor, his massive jaws snapping inches from Dominic’s throat.
“Call him off! Arthur, please! Call him off!” Dominic wailed, clutching his shattered nose with his free hand.
Arthur walked slowly down the marble stairs.
He stopped at the edge of the ruined table. Maeve walked down beside him, her head held high, adjusting the sapphire necklace at her throat with effortless grace.
Arthur looked down at Dominic.
“Goliath, heel,” Arthur said quietly.
The dog immediately released the arm, backed up two paces, and sat down beside Maeve, resting his bloody jowl against her emerald skirt.
The entire ballroom was completely silent. The capos of the Five Families, the judges, the corrupt politicians—all of them stood frozen, waiting for the execution.
Arthur turned to the assembly.
“For four generations, the Romano family has protected this city,” Arthur announced, his voice carrying to every corner of the vast hall. “Dominic Vance broke the ancient laws. He attempted to assassinate his Don, he conspired with foreign cartels, and he targeted innocent blood.”
Arthur looked at Don Moretti, the oldest living capo on the Commission. “What is the penalty under the 1928 charter, Don Moretti?”
The elderly capo stepped forward, bowing his head deeply. “Exile to the northern iron works, complete confiscation of all assets, and a lifetime ban from entering the city limits under penalty of immediate death.”
Arthur looked down at Dominic. “You heard the Commission. Matteo, strip him of his watch, his ring, and his shoes. Put him on a cargo barge heading to the Canadian border. If he ever sets foot in New Harbor again... feed him to the dogs.”
Two guards hauled the sobbing, bloody former underboss away through the service exit, dragging him out of the empire he had tried to steal.
Arthur turned back to the room.
He raised his hand.
Matteo walked forward, carrying a silver tray with two crystal flutes of vintage champagne.
Arthur took one and handed the other to Maeve.
He turned to the crowd of eighty powerful men and women who ruled the eastern seaboard.
“To the future of New Harbor,” Arthur announced, raising his glass. “And to Maeve Nolan—the Matriarch who pulled the Romano family out of the dark.”
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The entire ballroom erupted into thunderous, deafening applause.
Capos who had commanded armies of hitmen bowed their heads in deep respect as Maeve raised her glass, the poor waitress from the south side finally receiving the honor she had earned with her blood, her grit, and her unbreakable soul.
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