Chapter 11 - The Consigliere’s Treason
By morning, the extraction chopper arrived, guided by the encrypted beacon Dante had activated.
Dante was alive, nursing a fractured arm and a bandaged brow, but grinning when he saw us emerge from the cabin.
“You’re hard to kill, Boss,” Dante barked over the rotor noise.
“Takes more than a Swiss sniper to finish a Voss,” I shouted back, holding Evelyn firmly by my side.
During the flight back across the Atlantic, we analyzed the decrypted data on Julian Vance’s drives.
The truth was far worse than we had imagined.
Damian Voss had not only orchestrated the murder of Julian Vance; he had also poisoned my father three years ago with a slow-acting neurotoxin to seize control of the Voss syndicate. My father’s sudden ‘heart failure’ was a cold-blooded execution.
“He killed my father,” I said, my knuckles turning white as I stared at the medical autopsy reports and private banking transfers on the laptop screen. “And he killed yours.”
Evelyn sat beside me, her hand resting over mine, her eyes burning with cold resolve.
“Then we don't just take his money, Adrien,” she said quietly. “We take his freedom. We take his empire. We take everything.”
Meanwhile, in our absence, Damian had declared a state of emergency within the syndicate. He had convinced the Elder Council that I had been assassinated in Switzerland and that Evelyn Vance was an undercover federal agent who had compromised the family’s security.
He had gathered the entire mafia hierarchy at Voss Manor for a formal coronation, where he intended to appoint himself the supreme Don of the eastern territories.
“They think we’re dead,” I told Dante as our helicopter approached the city skyline under the cover of dusk.
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“That makes the entrance much more dramatic, Boss,” Dante replied, cocking a fresh magazine into his assault rifle.
“We don't go in with guns blazing,” I said, adjusting my black tactical vest over a crisp dress shirt. “We go in with the truth. And when the truth destroys his credibility, we bury him.”
