Chapter 8 - The Council of Wolves
Damian’s council met inside a shipyard warehouse where his father had once ordered men beaten for stealing cargo.
The building had not changed much in thirty years.
Rust climbed the steel beams. Rain tapped against the high windows. A long table stood beneath hanging industrial lights.
Seven men waited around it.
Some had served Arthur Vale.
Some had become wealthy under Damian.
All of them looked at Della as though she were a problem that should never have entered the room.
Damian had wanted her moved to a fortified hospital.
Della refused.
Silas Vance had already used police officers, hotel employees, and private security teams. Hiding would only give him more opportunities to choose the battlefield.
More importantly, Caleb’s files had revealed two council members receiving Vance money.
Della knew their names.
Damian did not.
Not yet.
Marcus Reed stood near the rear door, disarmed but alive. Damian had not forgiven him, but the document case was intact and Marcus had voluntarily submitted to restraint.
At midnight, Silas Vance entered.
He was silver-haired, elegant, and calm in the manner of men who had spent decades paying others to panic for them.
Cordelia walked beside him.
She had changed from her red gown into a cream suit. A thin bandage covered one wrist where Damian had restrained her.
When she saw Della, surprise flashed across her face.
“You continue to survive,” Cordelia said.
Della rested one hand on her belly.
“You continue to fail.”
A few council members looked away to hide their reactions.
Silas smiled faintly.
“Ms. Marsh, I regret what happened at the hotel.”
“Your daughter pushed me into a mirror.”
“Cordelia has always been impulsive.”
“She murdered my husband.”
The room became silent.
Cordelia’s expression did not change.
Silas removed his gloves.
“Grief can produce unhealthy theories.”
“I have a recording.”
That got his attention.
Damian stepped to the head of the table.
“This meeting was called to remove me. Proceed.”
An older council member named Frank Deluca cleared his throat.
“Your judgment has become compromised. Federal investigations have increased. Revenue from traditional operations is down. And now you are exposing internal business to a civilian.”
“A civilian who possesses more evidence against Silas than any man in this room.”
Silas sat opposite Damian.
“Evidence can disappear.”
Della looked directly at him.
“It has already been distributed.”
That was a bluff.
She had uploaded the files to one account, but Damian’s attorneys were still arranging secure copies.
Silas studied her, attempting to decide whether she was lying.
Cordelia seemed less uncertain.
“She’s bluffing.”
Della turned toward her.
Cordelia smiled.
“Caleb used the same trick. He claimed he sent files to journalists. We checked every account before his car reached the barrier.”
“You watched him die.”
“I watched him make a poor decision.”
Della’s throat tightened, but she did not look away.
“You manufactured the hotel incident because you thought I had the key.”
“I needed your bag searched. You should have fallen onto the carpet.”
“You shoved her toward the mirror,” Damian said.
Cordelia shrugged. “She resisted.”
A low murmur moved around the table.
Silas looked at his daughter with irritation.
She had admitted too much.
Damian noticed.
“So Caleb’s death was not an accident,” he said.
Silas raised one hand. “Nothing said in this room leaves it.”
“It already has.”
Damian pressed a button beneath the table.
Speakers hidden in the warehouse ceiling came alive.
Cordelia’s confession repeated through the building.
You should have fallen onto the carpet.
Silas rose.
Damian’s legitimate security team and three federal agents entered through the side doors.
Della stared at him.
“You involved federal agents?”
“After Mercer Street.”
“You told me the police were compromised.”
“Some are. These agents answer to a task force based in Washington.”
Silas did not appear frightened.
“You think a recording made without consent will destroy me?”
“No,” Damian said. “The financial files will.”
He opened the black document case.
It was empty.
Damian turned toward Marcus.
Marcus’s face changed.
“I checked it at the clinic.”
Silas smiled.
One of the council members stood and drew a gun.
Then another.
Frank Deluca and Thomas Crane—the two names listed in Caleb’s payment files.
The federal agents raised their weapons.
The warehouse erupted into shouting.
Deluca seized Della from behind and pressed a gun beneath her ribs.
Damian froze.
“Let her go.”
Deluca dragged her toward the loading bay.
“Put your weapon down.”
Damian obeyed immediately.
Silas moved behind Deluca, still calm.
Cordelia followed.
Thomas Crane held the agents at gunpoint from the opposite side.
Deluca pulled Della toward a waiting car.
Damian’s gaze remained locked on hers.
He had taught her one signal in the vehicle before the meeting.
Two fingers meant drop.
His hand moved.
Della let her knees collapse.
Deluca’s arm lifted as her weight fell.
Damian drew a second weapon hidden at his ankle and fired.
The bullet struck Deluca’s shoulder.
Della rolled away.
Federal agents tackled Thomas Crane.
Marcus lunged toward Silas, but Cordelia pulled a gun from her handbag and fired.
Marcus fell.
Silas and Cordelia escaped through the loading bay as a second vehicle smashed through the outer gate.
Damian reached Della.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
He looked toward the empty document case.
“They knew we had the evidence.”
Della’s thoughts raced.
At the clinic, she had uploaded most of the drive before the monitor was destroyed.
But not all.
The files remaining on the physical drive were now missing.
She looked toward Marcus, who lay bleeding on the concrete.
“Where is the flash drive?”
Marcus struggled to breathe.
“I gave it to someone I trusted.”
“Who?”
His eyes moved toward Damian.
“Your sister.”
Damian went still.
“My sister has been dead for nine years.”
May you like
Marcus coughed blood.
“No,” he whispered. “She has been hiding from you.”
