Chapter 5 - The Lion's Den
The council meeting was held at 2:00 PM the following afternoon in the subterranean ballroom of the Grand Regency Hotel in midtown Manhattan.
The room was surrounded by two dozen armed guards representing the Five Families. At the center sat a massive round mahogany table where the five dons of the New York underworld gathered once a year to settle territorial disputes.
At the head of the table sat Vincent Moretti—a greasy, sixties-something crime boss with silver hair, sharp teeth, and a reputation for sadistic cruelty.
The heavy double doors of the ballroom blew open.
Julian Vance walked inside. He wore a midnight-black suit, accompanied only by Gabriel and two senior lieutenants. He did not carry a weapon; his mere presence carried the weight of an artillery strike.
"Julian," Vincent Moretti sneered, leaning back in his leather chair, swirling a glass of scotch. "So glad you could join us. We were just discussing your recent habit of blowing up public hospitals."
Julian walked calmly to his assigned seat at the table, sitting down with smooth, predatory grace. He rested his hands flat on the mahogany surface.
"My uncle had a heart attack, Vincent," Julian spoke, his voice low, calm, and terrifyingly clear. "You sent eight men with incendiary grenades to execute a dying man in an intensive care unit."
"It was business, Vance!" Moretti barked, slamming his fist on the table. "Your uncle controlled the Brooklyn shipping docks. We wanted the keys! And let's talk about the nurse, shall we?"
Moretti leaned forward, a disgusting, victorious grin spreading across his face.
"My scouts saw you carry a woman and a little girl out of that service stairwell," Moretti purred, his yellow eyes flashing with malice. "A pretty little ER nurse named Elena Marsh. And a six-year-old bastard child with your eyes."
The temperature in the vast ballroom dropped ten degrees instantly.
Gabriel’s hand subtly drifted toward his holster. The surrounding guards tensed, sensing the sudden, apocalyptic shift in the room's energy.
Julian did not shout. He did not slam his fist.
He slowly leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. His icy gray eyes locked onto Vincent Moretti’s throat with the absolute focus of a executioner measuring a blade.
"Say her name again, Vincent," Julian whispered softly.
Moretti’s triumphant grin flickered. For a fraction of a second, an ancient, instinctual terror clutched at the older mobster’s throat.
"I... I am merely stating facts, Vance," Moretti stammered, trying to regain his composure before the other three dons. "The child is an unsanctioned heir. She is a liability—"
"That child," Julian cut him off, his voice dropping into a register so dark it sent chills down the spines of every Don at the table, "is Lily Vance. She is my daughter. And the woman you threatened is the future matriarch of the Vance Syndicate."
A collective gasp echoed across the room. The other three crime bosses exchanged wide-eyed, shocked glances.
Julian slowly stood up from the table. He reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulled out a heavy gold signet ring bearing the ancient crest of the Vance family, and slammed it onto the center of the mahogany table.
"Hear me now, gentlemen," Julian declared, his voice echoing off the stone pillars of the ballroom. "Vincent Moretti has broken the cardinal blood code. He targeted a child. As of this hour, the Vance family declares total war on the Moretti syndicate."
He turned his back on Moretti, walking toward the double doors without looking back.
"Julian!" Moretti screamed, standing up, his chair clattering backward. "You can't fight the entire city!"
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Julian stopped at the threshold, turning his head slightly.
"I'm not fighting the city, Vincent," Julian said flatly. "I'm cleaning it."
