CHAPTER 68: CHAINS OF COMMANDS

Edmund could not rest. The incident gnawed at him, pushing him to move the entire arena auction to a safer location, especially with Lunox scheduled to host an event in a week.

The venue itself was not the real problem. The true headache was choosing one that met Blackshore’s strict standards.

Their name carried weight, and every auction they held followed protocols so rigid they might as well have been carved into stone.

He began the inspection process one building at a time until he finally found a suitable replacement.

It was fortunate that the items from the flame disaster had not arrived yet, and that the fire had been extinguished quickly thanks to the arena’s internal system.

Still, the fact remained: if someone could set fire to part of the auction grounds, they could just as easily burn the item vault as well.

He rubbed his chin as he surveyed the new location. It was a large European-style structure with Renaissance bones, the sort of majestic old building that wore its age proudly.

Rows of carved statues lined the columns, casting long shadows in the late afternoon light.

"This is the kind of place Lucero would adore," he murmured.

"Sir, these are the blueprints," Lance said as he handed the rolled papers over.

Edmund spread them across the table and began planning security measures, fire response improvements, and anything else that might prevent another disaster.

Lance waited patiently for the next command.

"Lance," Edmund finally said, his eyes still on the plans.

"Make sure every crew member’s face is familiar to you. Choose your own men. Only them. Do not bring anyone from another division."

"Sir? You think there might be a spy?" Lance asked.

"Not only that," Edmund replied while rubbing his jaw.

"Whoever is behind this wants to spite me and strain our relationship with Lucero. It is possible they want this situation to escalate into something worse."

"But Sir... is there no possibility that it is Lucero? There is a rumor spreading that they suspect us because their Don went missing."

Edmund’s left eye twitched. His hand struck the table hard enough to make Lance flinch. His voice remained flat, but the weight behind it filled the room.

"You believe a rumor over me? Do you think Basilisk would waste his time with a childish fire trick?"

He stood and leaned forward slightly, his presence pressing down on the younger man.

"Lance, that old man was already a mafia boss when you were still learning how to write your name. Do as I say and stop questioning my decisions."

Lance stiffened. Sweat trickled down his temple. "I am truly sorry, Sir. I will choose the men immediately and send you all their profiles."

He bowed slightly and hurried out, leaving the room to settle into a sharp quiet.

Edmund tapped his fingers on the table and took a slow sip of whiskey.

"So that rumor reached them too," he whispered. "I wonder what Basilisk is doing right now."

***

"Don Salvatore, we need to act. They are blaming us for burning their building."

"Exactly. We would never stoop to something that pathetic."

"And we need to bring Lucien back. We already have proof they were the ones who kidnapped the Don."

"They look down on us! We need to give them a lesson!"

Their voices filled the room, each capo louder than the last. Salvatore sat at the head of the table with a cigar resting between his fingers. He did not even taste it.

His gaze stayed locked on the window where the sky stretched wide and blue, far calmer than the storm inside him.

Vincent was still missing with the Giant, and Obscura’s short report claimed Lucien had left the matter to him.

That should have made him proud. His grandson trusted his judgment.

Yet it irritated him just as much, because Lucien behaved as if everything was a stroll in the garden.

He rubbed his bearded jaw as the thought coiled through him.

’That grandson of mine will never change. If things are spiraling this far, would it not be better if he simply came home?’

Another thought followed, dark and unwelcome.

’Or perhaps he cannot. Obscura said he was fine and everything was under control. Could the Leopard have planted false information?’

Salvatore rose. The movement was slow but final, and the capos halted mid-argument. Remaining seated would solve nothing, and he could feel the familiar itch to move.

Speaking directly to the one who dared kidnap his grandson would be far more productive than listening to their panic.

"I will speak to the Gilded Leopard," he announced.

The room burst again with objections. Too dangerous, a reckless move, and a trap. Everything to make the Don stop as they didn’t want to lose another one.

But Salvatore knew better than anyone that Leopard would never attack him in broad daylight. He was too smart for that.

He slammed the cane onto the floor, and every voice died.

"I will take Twilight. Hound and Dante will recover Vincent," he said, his tone deepening until it filled every corner of the room.

"The rest of you will support them. Use any asset available. Lock down the city. Manipulate the media. And do not go near Lunox without my explicit permission."

His gaze swept across the capos, and the weight of his authority pressed down on them. He was not only an alpha. He was the Don they had been raised to fear and admire.

"Some of you do not know my way of ruling," he continued.

"But you have heard it from your fathers. I do not let anyone break our rules without punishment. Remember that."

Silence held the room as every capo lowered their head didn’t dare to raise any objection. They love their Don but their life was also valuable.

Salvatore stepped out of the chamber with Twilight at his side. As they entered the hallway, his voice dropped to a low murmur.

"Let us see what kind of game that boy is playing."