Chapter 4 - the bowing of the kings
Damian Crane exploded out of his seat at the head table. The wooden chair slid back violently against the carpet. His face flushed bright red, his fists clenching as he surged down the steps toward Augustus.
"Who the hell do you think you are?!" Damian roared, his voice booming across the high ceilings, echoing off the marble walls.
He took three aggressive strides toward the old man, intending to tear him apart in front of everyone.
He didn't make it a fourth step.
Across the massive banquet hall, the sound of chairs scraping simultaneously broke the silence.
On the far left, Thomas Vance—the notorious elder who controlled the entire eastern shipping empire—stood straight up and immediately bent his head low toward Augustus.
Beside him, Marcus Vance, the ruthless head of international finance, pushed back his table and bowed deeply from the waist.
One by one, like a falling row of dominoes, every senior gang leader, every regional boss, every veteran commander, and every billionaire benefactor in the hall rose to their feet. Men who controlled billions of dollars and commanded armies of loyalty bowed their heads in absolute, unyielding reverence toward the old man standing in the center aisle.
Damian stopped dead in his tracks, his heart slamming against his ribs. He looked left. He looked right. The men he had spent years trying to buy and intimidate were paying homage to the man he had just treated like a dog.
Augustus did not raise his voice. He did not look angry. His blue eyes were ice cold, holding Damian’s gaze with terrifying calm.
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"The man who gave your family its name," Augustus said softly, his deep, resonant voice carrying clearly through the silent room.
Damian froze. Victoria, sitting bruised on the floor, felt the blood completely drain from her face.
