Chapter 4 - The Threat at the Gate
By Thursday afternoon, the heavy, humid heat of late summer had settled over Long Island, wrapping the Russo estate in a suffocating blanket of green and gold.
Beatrice sat in the shaded corner of the sprawling back lawn, helping Leo build an elaborate fortress out of wooden blocks while cicadas buzzed loudly in the oak trees. Yet, despite the peaceful suburban facade of the afternoon, an invisible shadow had fallen over the property.
Earlier that morning, Marcus—Dominic’s hulking, scarred head of security—had doubled the perimeter patrols. Two additional black SUVs now sat parked near the side gates, and the armed guards stationed by the gardens looked tenser, their hands hovering closer to their shoulder holsters.
Beatrice knew the whispers of the underworld. She knew that men like Dominic Russo didn't build fortresses just for aesthetic pleasure. They built them because enemies were always circling, waiting for a weakness.
“Bea! Look! The dragon is attacking the castle!” Leo shouted, thrusting a plastic toy dinosaur toward the wooden blocks.
“Oh no! Defend the walls, your majesty!” Beatrice laughed, catching the toy before it knocked over the main tower, her soft laughter floating up into the heavy afternoon air.
Suddenly, the sharp crunch of gravel echoed from the private driveway behind the rose bushes.
Beatrice stiffened. She looked up.
A sleek, black-tinted town car—not one of Dominic’s vehicles, and certainly not an expected guest—slowed to a crawl near the edge of the manicured lawn. The rear passenger window rolled down an inch, revealing a flash of silver hair and dark sunglasses.
Before the car could stop entirely, Marcus and three enforcers materialized from the shadows of the veranda like ghosts, their weapons drawn and leveled at the vehicle with terrifying, practiced speed.
“Turn the vehicle around. Now,” Marcus barked, his voice like grinding stones.
The town car didn't accelerate, but the window rolled down further. A man with a chilling, artificial smile leaned out slightly.
“Tell Dominic his old friends from the Moretti syndicate send their regards,” the man called out, his voice smooth and venomous. “And tell him that things left unguarded in the dark tend to disappear.”
With a screech of rubber, the town car accelerated down the gravel drive, kicking up a cloud of white dust before disappearing through the iron gates.
Beatrice’s breath caught in her throat. She pulled Leo instinctively closer against her side, wrapping her arms around the little boy.
Marcus strode over immediately, his face carved from granite. “Miss Gallagher. Take Leo inside the safe room behind the study. Now.”
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“Marcus, what was that?” Beatrice asked, her voice shaking despite her best efforts to keep steady for the child. “Who were those men?”
“That was a message,” Marcus said grimly, his hand resting on the grip of his pistol. “And Boss isn't going to like it one bit.”
