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Chapter 5 - The Council of WolvesBy noon, the atmosphere inside the Ashford estate had shifted from cautious defense to calculated offense.

Dominic summoned the inner council of the Ashford syndicate to the second-floor war room—a secure, soundproofed chamber equipped with encrypted satellite feeds and high-resolution surveillance monitors covering every square mile of their territory.

Around the mahogany conference table sat Marco, Felix, and Silas Vance—the head of Ashford’s intelligence network, who was no relation to Elena despite the shared surname.

Dominic stood at the head of the table, his hands resting flat on the glass surface as he looked down at the digital map of downtown Chicago.

“Caldwell is moving his primary enforcers out of the docks and consolidating them around the financial district,” Silas reported, tapping a digital stylus against the screen. Red markers blinked into existence across the financial sector. “He’s trying to protect the shell companies tied to Arthur Vance before federal investigators can subpoena the accounts.”

“He doesn't care about the law anymore,” Marco added, crossing his arms. “He cares about survival. With Elena holding the encryption keys to their money-laundering network, Caldwell is completely exposed.”

“Which is exactly why we aren't going to wait for him to make the first move,” Dominic said coldly.

He straightened up, his dark eyes sweeping over his men.

“Silas, I want every financial connection between Caldwell’s syndicate and the city council leaked to our contacts in the federal prosecutor's office by midnight. No signatures. Just undeniable proof.”

“Done,” Silas nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “That’ll tie up half their legal team in grand jury subpoenas before they even realize what hit them.”

“Felix, double-check the armory. Make sure the perimeter defenses are upgraded with thermal sensors. Caldwell likes to move in the dark; let’s make sure we blind him before he reaches the gates.”

“On it, boss,” Felix replied, standing up and heading for the door.

As the men dispersed to execute their orders, Dominic remained standing by the map, deep in thought.

“And Elena?” Marco asked quietly, lingering by the door. “What happens when she recovers? We can’t keep her locked in the East Wing forever.”

“She stays where she is until this war is over,” Dominic said firmly. “And when it’s finished, she decides her own path. No pressure. No chains.”

Marco watched his boss for a moment, noticing the subtle shift in Dominic’s demeanor—a protective instinct that hadn't been triggered in a very, very long time.

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“Just be careful, Dominic,” Marco warned softly. “People like Caldwell don't fight fair. They strike where you’re weakest.”

“Let him try,” Dominic replied, his voice chillingly quiet. “I don't have any weak spots left.”

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