Chapter 7 - ASHES OF THE VANCE EMPIRE
The power vacuum created by the death of Dominic Rossi was instantaneous and violent. By 3:00 AM, the Boston underworld was in absolute chaos. Sirens wailed across the city. The remaining Rossi lieutenants were scrambling to secure their territories, while the Vance syndicate capos were desperately trying to reach their Boss for orders.
Damen ignored them all.
He sat in the back of the armored SUV, the driver navigating the slick, empty streets back toward the Cambridge bunker. He looked at his hands. They were covered in Dominic Rossi's blood. He thought about the empire his father had built. An empire of extortion, violence, and fear. An empire that had deemed a six-year-old girl and her mother a threat to the bottom line.
You are a monster, Clara's eyes had said in the alleyway.
She was right. He was the King of the Monsters. But a king could abdicate.
"Pull over," Damen ordered the driver.
The SUV swerved to the curb on a deserted stretch of Memorial Drive, the dark waters of the Charles River churning on their left.
"Give me the burner phone," Damen said.
The driver handed over a thick, encrypted satellite phone. Damen dialed a number that only three people in the world had. It rang twice before it was answered by a gruff, sleep-heavy voice.
"Speak," Elias Thorne grunted. Elias was the oldest, most ruthless capo in the Vance syndicate, a man who had served Damen's father and controlled the lucrative North End rackets.
"Elias," Damen said, his voice flat and authoritative. "Dominic Rossi is dead. I killed him at the shipyard an hour ago. The Rossi family is broken."
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. "Boss, that's... that's a declaration of total war. We need to mobilize. We need to strike their safehouses before they regroup."
"No," Damen said. "You're going to stand down."
"Stand down?" Elias echoed, disbelief warring with anger. "If we don't finish them tonight, they'll come for us tomorrow!"
"Let them come for you, Elias," Damen said coldly. "Because I am done."
Silence hung heavy on the line. "What are you saying, Damen?"
"I am saying the Vance family as you know it is dead," Damen stated, his words measured and final. "I am stepping down. I am ceding all territories, all rackets, all weapons routes to the capos. You can divide the city amongst yourselves. You can fight the Rossis for the scraps. I don't care. But I am out."
"You can't just walk away!" Elias roared, the old mobster's fury igniting. "You're the Boss! You took an oath in blood!"
"My blood is sitting in a bunker in Cambridge," Damen replied, looking out at the dark river. "My father tried to kill her. My underboss lied to me. This empire is built on rot, Elias. I'm letting it burn."
"If you walk away, Damen," Elias threatened, his voice dropping into a deadly hiss, "you are no longer protected. The Rossis will hunt you. The other families will hunt you. You'll be a target for the rest of your life."
"Let them try," Damen whispered, a dark, terrifying promise in his tone. "Tell anyone who asks. Tell the Rossis. Tell the Italians. Tell the Irish. If anyone comes looking for Damen Vance, if anyone steps within a hundred miles of my family, I won't just kill them. I will eradicate their entire bloodline from the face of the earth. Consider this my resignation."
He hung up the phone, rolled down the window, and threw the device into the dark, freezing waters of the Charles River.
He leaned back against the leather seat, closing his eyes. The weight of the crown, a weight he had carried since his father's death, suddenly lifted from his shoulders. He was no longer the Don of Boston. He was just a man. A man with a lot of enemies, yes, but a man who was finally free.
"Take me to the bunker," Damen told the driver.
When the SUV pulled up to the abandoned meatpacking plant, Damen stepped out into the pre-dawn mist. The rain had finally stopped. The air smelled of ozone and salt water.
He walked down the concrete ramp to the subterranean entrance. He pressed his hand against the biometric scanner next to the heavy steel vault door.
Access granted.
The pneumatic hiss sounded louder in the quiet morning. The heavy door swung outward.
Damen stepped inside. The bunker was quiet. He walked down the short corridor to the clinic room.
Clara was sitting on the edge of the cot, her knees pulled to her chest, the woolen blanket wrapped tightly around her. She was staring blankly at the wall, her face pale, the dark circles under her eyes stark in the harsh fluorescent light. Beside her, Lily was fast asleep, her breathing steady and deep.
When Clara heard his footsteps, her head snapped up.
She saw the blood on his hands. She saw the exhaustion etched deep into the lines of his face. She stood up slowly, the blanket falling to the floor.
"Damen?" she whispered, terrified of the answer. "Is it over?"
Damen stopped a few feet away from her. He looked down at his bloodstained hands, then reached into his tactical vest and pulled out the heavy, gold signet ring he wore on his right hand—the ring of the Vance Boss, passed down from his father.
He walked over to a small metal sink in the corner of the room, dropped the ring into the drain, and turned on the hot water, scrubbing the blood from his skin until his hands were raw and clean.
He turned back to Clara.
"It's over," Damen said softly. "Dominic Rossi is dead. Marcus is gone. And I just gave the empire away."
Clara stared at him, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what he was saying. "You... you gave it away? The syndicate?"
"I burned it down," Damen corrected, walking slowly toward her. He stopped just inches away, looking down into the gray-blue eyes that had haunted his dreams for seven years. "My father thought an empire was the most important thing in the world. He was wrong. I was wrong to ever listen to him."
He reached out, his clean, scarred hands gently cupping her face.
"I have enough clean money in offshore accounts to buy us an island, Clara," Damen said, his voice thick with emotion. "I have new passports. New identities. We can go anywhere in the world. We can be anyone we want to be. I am never letting you go again. Please. Let me be a father. Let me be the man you loved."
Clara looked up at the terrifying, beautiful, broken man standing in front of her. He had walked through hell, he had slaughtered his enemies, and he had given up a kingdom, all to stand in this concrete room with her.
The wall she had built around her heart for seven years finally, completely shattered.
May you like
She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Damen wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, burying his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her, feeling the reality of her against his body.
They stood there in the quiet bunker, holding each other as the ghosts of the past finally released their grip.
