PLEASE RE-READ CHAPTER THREE AND CHAPTER EIGHT BEFORE CONTINUING.

The day had been a whirlwind of meetings, negotiations, and strategic planning. My laptop rested precariously on my lap, papers strewn across the backseat like a chaotic tapestry of deals and promises. As I glanced at the mess, my mind drifted to a more personal chaos—Thea.

Her room was a delightful disaster. Her cheeks would flush a rosy hue whenever she was embarrassed, her bed shorts revealing long legs and soft skin. She looked effortlessly adorable making breakfast, her hair tied in a low knot as she moved gracefully around the kitchen. Those moments with her felt like stolen slices of serenity, compared to the relentless pace of my life.

And I loved it.

The peace and quiet with Thea provided a respite from the ever-present threats lurking in the shadows. Yet, it wasn't enough to make me abandon the life I'd chosen. The thrill, the adrenaline, the constant danger—it was a drug I couldn't quit. As the vehicle approached the estate, I shut my laptop with a decisive click. The gates opened, revealing a parade of Grand Cherokees and Land Rovers parked in a regimented line.

2:15 PM. I was late.

Leaving the scattered papers and laptop behind, I grabbed my gun and phone before stepping out of the car. Nate pulled up behind me in the custom-made Corvette I'd used to drop Thea off yesterday. I made my way inside, my eyes scanning the unfamiliar faces in the foyer. About ten men, all muscular and clad in fitting T-shirts and cargo pants, stood with military precision. Their boots and bearing betrayed their backgrounds in the force.

"There he is!" My father's voice boomed, cutting through the tension. I walked past the miniature army, my senses on high alert. Only the most crucial clients were ever invited to the estate, and none had brought so much security before. For my father to allow this breach of protocol, the guest had to be of utmost importance.

"So that's your boy, huh?" The voice preceded its owner—a towering figure, freshly tanned, twirling a pair of sunglasses. He wore black, matching his posse's attire, but his presence was unmistakably dominant. A Cabot guns big bang pistol set nestled in his belt, it's worth a staggering four and a half million.

He was underworld royalty, and he sat on the tallest throne of bones and blood.

"It's nice to put a face to the name," he said, extending a hand adorned with tattoos that snaked up to his neck. His gaze challenged me, daring me to disrespect him. The underworld knew him as the Baron. I'd never cared to learn his real name; the mystery added to his formidable aura. He was a retired soldier, an unflinching arms dealer, and an old ally of my father's. Double-crossing him was tantamount to signing one's death warrant.

With a firm grip and a small smile, I shook his hand, my gun discreetly concealed beneath my suit jacket. Respect was mutual, but trust was a luxury neither of us could afford.

"Welcome to our home," I said, my voice steady. "Let's get down to business."

My father's affirmative nod was more than just a gesture; it was a test, another one of many, to see if I was ready to take over the clan. I was determined to make him proud. With a deep breath, I led my father and our guest into the office. Nate, our ever-loyal aide, caught up with us midway and held the door open.

For the first thirty minutes, the old friends chatted and caught up on each other's lives. It had been a good decade since they last met. The Baron had left the city to build his business, and his success was evident. He had always been in demand—a weapons expert and a master gunman. He had been the clan's supplier until he left, and then Randy Dalary had taken over. But now Randy was out of the picture, and we desperately needed a new supplier. I had traced the Baron down, and when I got the call last night, I didn't waste a second before arranging this meeting.

"So, Hudson's boy is gone," the Baron said, scratching his stubble with his elbow on the armrest of his chair.

"Yes. I'm filling in until he returns," I said, my head held high.

"And Dalary? Is he aware of my presence?" he asked, taking a slow sip of his whisky, savoring the flavor.

"He's been taken care of," I replied. My response caused him to choke, and Dad patted his back as he recovered.

"You killed your supplier to make a deal with me?" The Baron's voice was slightly higher than before, a mix of surprise and shock.

"Dishonesty and treachery killed him," I stated nonchalantly. The Baron smirked, seemingly proud of me. He looked towards my father, who wore the biggest smile I had seen in a while.

As the afternoon progressed to evening, the atmosphere in the room grew more serious. The Baron leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. "Your father speaks highly of you," he said, his tone measured. "But taking a life is no small feat, especially someone like Dalary."

I met his gaze steadily. "Dalary's betrayal left us vulnerable. I did what needed to be done to protect the clan."

The Baron nodded slowly. "I see. And you believe you can handle the responsibilities that come with this role?"

"I do," I replied firmly.

My father placed a hand on his shoulder. "The boy has shown remarkable skill and determination. He has my full support."

The Baron's eyes flickered with a mixture of respect and curiosity. "Alright then. Let's see if you can live up to the reputation."

We shook hands again, this time it felt more amicable. "You understand the consequences, correct?" he asked, not letting go of my hand.

"Yes, sir. And..." I cleared my throat before continuing, "I thought you'd like to know that Dalary had been in contact with Miller."

The Baron's eyes widened, and his smile faltered. I felt his grip tighten around my hand before letting go. Nevertheless, I continued, "To my knowledge, you've got a bone to pick with him."

"How long?"

I shrugged. "As far as our estimate goes, a couple of years."

"Conrad, if you're going to war with Miller over a lousy weapons deal—" I interrupted the Baron before he finished the sentence and shook my head.

"It's not a lousy weapons deal," I clarified, pocketing my hands and walking around the table to stand before him and my father. "There's word that he's looking for Rossi."

"Dominic Rossi?" My father and the Baron both looked at each other with serious expressions.

"I wish. He's going for the brother. Damian Rossi." My father's chest heaved as he took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was news to him. I'd come to know this morning thanks to Hunter.

"I'll stand by you." The Baron put a strong hand on my shoulder and gave me a pat. "But let me warn you, boy, Miller is no ordinary man. He's the head of a combination now."

"I heard," I stated.

The Baron nodded, a grim look settling on his face. "Then you know he won't play fair. He'll come at you from all angles, use every trick in the book."

"I'm ready," I replied, though the weight of my words hung heavy in the air. There was no room for doubt or hesitation now.

My father, who had been silent, finally spoke. "Conrad, this isn't just about a weapons deal or Rossi. This is about our legacy, our family's future. If Miller is involved, it's bound to get dirty."

I nodded. "I understand, Father. That's why we need to move quickly and decisively. Hunter's already gathering intel. We need to hit Miller where it hurts before he has a chance to retaliate."

The Baron's eyes flicked to my father, then back to me. "What's your plan?"

"We start by cutting off his supply lines. Disrupt his operations and make it difficult for him to maintain his hold on the combination. Then, we find Rossi before he does. If we can bring Rossi to our side, it could turn the tide in our favor."

My father sighed, rubbing his temples. "Easier said than done. Rossi is a ghost. Finding him will be like finding a needle in a haystack."

"I know," I admitted. "But we have resources and connections. Hunter's already on it, and with your support, Baron, we can widen our net."

The Baron's lips pressed into a thin line. "You're playing a dangerous game, Conrad. But if you're determined, I'll back you. Just know this: there's no turning back once we start."

"I'm aware," I said firmly. "And I appreciate your support."

The Baron gave a curt nod. "Very well. I'll start mobilizing my men. We'll coordinate our efforts and make sure Miller doesn't see us coming."

"Thank you." I extended my hand again, and this time, the handshake felt like a solid agreement, a pact forged in the fires of impending conflict.

As the Baron left the room, my father turned to me, his expression a mix of concern and pride. "You've grown into a strong leader, Conrad. Just be careful. Miller is ruthless, and this fight will test you in ways you've never been tested before."

"I know, Dad," I replied. "But I won't let our family down. I promise you that."

He nodded, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Good. Now let's prepare. We've got a war to win."

With that, we set our plans into motion, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. The battle with Miller was just the beginning, but I was determined to see it through, no matter the cost.

END OF CHAPTER NINETEEN: UNDERWORLD ROYALTY
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