Chapter 29
Chapter 29
“The Big One is on his way,” announced Marcus Deluca, head of the second most powerful family. His deep voice carried across the marble hall. “Until then, we’d like to hear what brought us here at this ungodly hour.”
Primo stepped forward, his shoes clicking against the floor as he approached Adrian. “This man claims to be someone he’s not. The Mitchells have been harboring him, protecting an impersonator who mocks our most sacred traditions.”
My stomach churned as Primo’s fingers.
flexed at his sides. The council members
leaned forward in their seats.
“He bears markings tattoos that only the highest ranking members should have. More than even our esteemed leader himself possesses.” Primo’s voice dripped. with disgust. “It’s sacrilege.”
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The family heads exchanged glances, their faces darkening. Vincent’s expression remained neutral, but his eyes never left Adrian.
“Show us,” commanded Marcus.
Primo grabbed the leather jacket Adrian wore the same one I’d seen him take from Primo at the club after their fight. He yanked it roughly off Adrian’s shoulders.
I watched helplessly as Primo tore Adrian’s already damaged shirt, the fabric giving way easily where his knife had sliced it earlier at the club. The cotton fell away to reveal intricate tattoos covering Adrian’s torso and arms.
Marcus inhaled sharply. Vincent’s eyes. narrowed as he studied the designs. The other family heads leaned forward, murmuring among themselves.
“These markings,” Primo’s voice filled with. venom, “are sacred to our organization. Each one earned through blood and loyalty.
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Yet this man appears with them all, mocking everything we stand for.” He turned to face the council. “And the Mitchells they’ve known about this deception. They’ve harbored him, protected him.”
My hands clenched into fists as Primo’s attention shifted to me.
“Asteria Mitchell and her family have committed treason against our
organization. They’ve aligned themselves with an outsider who dares to wear our symbols without earning them. The Mitchells have always played both sides, maintaining their pristine public image while dipping their toes in our world.” His lip curled. “But this time they’ve gone too far.”
The council members‘ faces hardened at Primo’s words. I felt their judgment weighing heavily on me, on my family name. Only Vincent maintained his neutral expression, though his eyes never left
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Adrian’s tattoos.
“The punishment for such disrespect must be severe,” Primo continued. “The
Mitchells must answer for their part in this deception. They cannot be allowed to
continue straddling both worlds, using our protection while harboring those who mock our traditions.”
Suddenly, the heavy doors creaked open, drawing everyone’s attention. A man in his late forties strode in with purpose, his presence commanding the room. Behind him followed two men whose dangerous. auras made even Primo take a step back. Their foreign features and stance marked them as outsiders, yet they carried themselves with lethal grace.
“Forgive my tardiness,” Primo breathed out. “The Head of the Big One.”
I watched as Marcus, Vincent, and the other family heads rose from their seats, bowing their heads in deference. The newcomer didn’t acknowledge them,
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instead stopping just inches from Adrian’s exposed back.
The two men trailing him dropped to one knee, heads bowed low. The gesture seemed practiced, natural – as if they’d done it countless times before.
“My apologies for the delay,” the Head’s voice filled the marble hall. “I was collecting our honored guests from the airport.” He gestured to the kneeling men.
“I am Tanaka Hiroshi, head of the Yakuza,” the first man announced, his accent precise and measured.
“Dmitri Volkov, leader of the Bratva,” the second man’s voice rumbled, thick with his Russian heritage.
My heart pounded against my ribs as I processed what was happening. The heads of the two most powerful international crime organizations were kneeling before the head of the Big One.
My breath caught in my throat as I watched
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the scene unfold. The council members‘ faces reflected my own shock – seeing the heads of the Yakuza and Bratva kneeling was unprecedented. These were men who commanded empires, who never bowed to anyone.
But what happened next made my knees weak.
The Head of the Big One – the most powerful man in our organization, the one person everyone deferred to slowly lowered his head. His spine curved forward in a deep, respectful bow directed at Adrian’s exposed back.
Gasps echoed through the marble hall. Vincent’s composed mask cracked, his eyes widening. Marcus gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. The other family heads shifted in their seats, confusion and disbelief etched across their features.
Primo’s face drained of color as he stared at the bowed head of our supreme leader. His mouth opened and closed, but no words
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came out.
The silence in the room was deafening. No one moved. No one breathed. We all stood frozen, trying to process what we were witnessing – the most powerful figures in the criminal underworld showing complete deference to the man Primo had just accused of being an imposter.
I watched, frozen in place, as the Head of the Big One straightened from his bow, though his eyes remained downcast in respect.
“It has been too long since you graced us with your presence,” he said to Adrian, his voice carrying a warmth I’d never heard from him before.
Tanaka Hiroshi, still kneeling, spoke next. “The Yakuza remains grateful for your guidance during the Tokyo crisis. We would. not have survived without your
intervention.”
“The Russian families still speak of how
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you prevented the bloodbath in St. Petersburg,” Dmitri added, his deep voice resonating through the marble hall. “Your wisdom saved countless lives that day.”
My heart hammered against my ribs as I watched the three most powerful men in the criminal underworld address Adrian
with such reverence. The council members. stood in stunned silence, and Primo looked like he might pass out.
“We are honored to stand in your presence once again,” they said in near–perfect unison, before all three spoke the word that made the blood freeze in my veins:
“Ghost.”