"Dante is on the secure line," Thayer murmurs, entirely shifting gears from feral lover to the untouchable Don with terrifying, seamless ease. "He needs the Donna."
I open my eyes. The heavy, warm lethargy of the morning completely evaporates, replaced by the sharp, cold, sociopathic clarity that defines my reign.
I slide out from beneath his hands, standing up from the sofa. I smooth the front of my silk dress, my midnight-blue eyes entirely devoid of softness.
"Watch Julian," I command, my voice completely stripped of its maternal warmth, ringing with absolute authority.
Thayer doesn't flinch at the order. He smiles. It is a dark, beautiful, completely unhinged curving of his pale lips. The absolute pride radiating from his gray eyes is blinding. He created a queen perfectly capable of ruling his underworld, and he worships the ground I walk on because of it.
"Always, my love," Thayer vows, stepping forward to intercept his son.
I turn and walk into the cool, immaculate interior of the twin villa. The Exumas estate is a flawless, sprawling replica of the original home he destroyed, entirely retrofitted with the most advanced, completely untraceable satellite communications tech on the planet.
I walk down the glass-enclosed hallway, heading straight for the study.
The room is dark, the titanium shutters completely lowered over the windows to prevent any possibility of thermal or satellite observation during sensitive transmissions. In the center of the heavy teakwood desk rests the encrypted communications terminal, a green light blinking steadily in the gloom.
Resting right beside the terminal is the heavy, dark leather-bound Black Book.
I sit down in the heavy leather captain’s chair. I do not open the book; I have entirely memorized the catastrophic sins of every single man listed in its pages over the last four years.
I press my thumb against the biometric scanner, entirely opening the audio channel.
"Speak, Dante," I command, my voice a lethal, vibrating hum that entirely fills the dark room.
"Donna,"the underboss’s voice crackles through the speaker. He is currently sitting in a penthouse in Geneva, acting as the physical proxy for the ghosts who truly rule the Syndicate."We have a minor complication in the Chicago sector. The new federal prosecutor, a man named Sterling, is aggressively pushing subpoenas against our secondary logistics fronts. He’s trying to build a RICO case on the ashes of the old guard."
"Sterling," I repeat the name, my mind instantly accessing the meticulously cataloged files in my brain. "Jonathan Sterling. Appointed two years ago. Married to a socialite, two daughters in private school in Connecticut."
"That's the one,"Dante confirms, the absolute respect in his tone a testament to the complete power I wield over the remaining Capos. They fear Thayer’s legend, but they fear my execution."He is entirely refusing the blind bribes. He wants to make a name for himself by hunting the remnants of your husband's empire. The Capos are asking for permission to completely eradicate him. A car bomb. Quick and loud."
My jaw locks. The fragile, terrified girl I used to be—the victim who wept when Thayer snapped an assassin's neck in our bedroom—would have recoiled in horror at the casual discussion of a car bomb. She would have begged for mercy.
But that girl was entirely murdered by her own father's greed.
"No," I state, my voice dropping to a completely dead, arctic frequency. "Car bombs attract national media. It gives the federal task forces a martyr to rally behind. We do not make martyrs, Dante. We make ghosts."
"Your orders, Sybil?"Dante asks, entirely deferring to my judgment.
"Page eighty-four of the Black Book," I instruct, entirely staring at the blinking green light. "Sterling isn't clean. Four years ago, before his appointment, he covered up a severe DUI hit-and-run for the son of a prominent senator in exchange for his current seat. The forensic evidence, the original police report, and the wiretapped phone call are entirely buried in a secure server in Zurich."
I lean forward, entirely resting my forearms on the desk, my eyes completely cold.
"Extract the file. Send it to his personal email with a single message: 'Resign by midnight, or the Department of Justice receives the unredacted truth.' Force him to completely destroy his own career. When he steps down in disgrace, buy his replacement through the usual offshore shell."
The silence on the line is heavy, filled with the profound, terrifying realization of the absolute, flawless precision of the strike. It leaves no blood. It leaves no bodies. It completely annihilates the enemy from the inside out.
"It is a completely flawless strategy, Donna,"Dante murmurs, the dark awe entirely evident."I will execute the protocol immediately."
"And Dante," I add, my voice sharpening into a lethal blade. "Tell the Capos in Chicago that if they ever suggest a public car bomb again without my explicit authorization, I will completely bankrupt their bloodlines and leave them to the Commission wolves."
"Understood, Queen Sybil."
I sever the connection, the green light entirely fading to black.
I lean back in the heavy leather chair, completely entirely alone in the dark study. My chest rises and falls in a slow, rhythmic breath. The immense, heavy power radiating from the desk is absolute. I am a twenty-four-year-old woman, entirely isolated on an unmapped rock in the ocean, and I hold the absolute fate of the federal government and the criminal underworld in the palm of my hand.
The door to the study slowly opens.
