Chapter 5 - A Don’s Gentle Side
Before storming the docks, Andrew had made a detour that stunned his most hardened captains: he drove back to the Mercer Estate in Brooklyn Heights.
The Mercer compound was an impenetrable private fortress guarded by high stone walls, infrared surveillance, and twenty armed sentries. It was a place built for war, inhabited only by soldiers and ghosts. No child had set foot in the mansion since Daniel had disappeared nine years ago.
Andrew carried Ivy into the grand marble foyer in his arms. The little girl had fallen into an exhausted, twitching sleep during the drive from Ashwood, her small head resting against his shoulder, her tiny fist still clutching his lapel.
Marco stepped inside behind them, carrying Ivy’s waterlogged backpack. The burly hitman looked completely out of place, watching his feared Don adjust his grip to make sure the little girl’s head didn't bump against the oak doorframe.
"Mrs. Gable," Andrew called quietly as he walked down the dimly lit hallway.
An elderly woman in a tailored black dress hurried down the grand staircase, her eyes widening in absolute shock at the sight of the blood-splattered Don holding a sleeping child.
"Master Andrew! Merciful heavens, what happened? Are you hurt?"
"I’m fine," Andrew murmured, keeping his voice hushed so he wouldn't startle Ivy. "Prepare Daniel’s old bedroom. Clean sheets. Warm soup. And find some warm clothes that might fit a seven-year-old girl."
Mrs. Gable’s hand flew to her mouth, tears instantly welling in her eyes. "Daniel’s room? Master Andrew... you haven't opened that door since—"
"Daniel is alive, Maria," Andrew interrupted, his voice thick with raw emotion. "Cassian hid him at Ashwood. We're going to get him tonight."
The elderly housekeeper gasped, crossing herself in frantic disbelief. "Mother of God... alive?"
"And this little girl is the reason why," Andrew said, looking down at Ivy’s peaceful, sleeping face. "Her name is Ivy. Her mother, Clara, saved Daniel’s life. Maria, guard this child with your life until I return. If anyone comes near these gates without my clearance, execute them."
Andrew carried Ivy up the mahogany staircase and entered a spacious, sunlit bedroom that had been preserved like a museum for nine years. He gently laid Ivy onto the plush goose-down bed and pulled the heavy cashmere blanket up to her chin.
As he turned to leave, a small hand reached out from under the blanket and caught his sleeve.
Ivy’s eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep and fear. "Mr. Andrew?"
Andrew immediately knelt down beside the bed, lowering his imposing six-foot-two frame until he was looking directly into her eyes. "I’m here, Ivy."
"Are you going to get Mommy now?" she asked, her lower lip trembling. "I’m scared. What if the bad men hurt her because I ran away?"
Andrew took her tiny hand in his large, scarred palm. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out the crumpled five-dollar bill, and smoothed it out against the nightstand, placing a heavy bronze paperweight over it.
"Look at me, Ivy," Andrew said, his gaze unwavering and steady as steel. "I have killed monsters far worse than Cassian. I have burned entire empires for touching what belongs to me. Your mother didn't just save a stranger; she saved my little brother. That makes her family. And in Brooklyn, nobody touches Mercer family."
A solitary tear spilled from Ivy’s eye, but she nodded slowly. "You promise?"
"I don't make promises, Ivy," Andrew said softly, leaning forward and placing a rare, gentle kiss on the top of her forehead. "I execute contracts. Go to sleep. When you wake up, your mommy will be holding you."
He stood up, his face instantly hardening back into the stone-cold mask of the Mafia Don.
He walked out into the hallway, pulling the door shut until only a crack remained. Downstairs, thirty Mercer soldiers stood in complete silence, their black assault rifles glinting under the chandelier.
Marco handed Andrew a freshly loaded drum magazine for his tactical rifle.
"Where to, Boss?"
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Andrew racked the bolt with a sharp, terrifying click.
"Warehouse 14 at the docks. My brother has waited nine years to go home. We don't keep him waiting another minute."
