"How gratifying it is to know that the High Order prepared a warm reception for my arrival. Where is she?" Dante’s gaze fixed on a man in a suit who appeared to be the hotel manager.
The man, dressed in a black suit, maintained a composed expression as he smiled at Dante.
"I’m the hotel manager. My na is Robert; you may call that," Robert said with a positive and enthusiastic deanor. "You must be Susie Glass. You’re even more beautiful in person than the rumors suggest."
"Is that man here now?" Dante cut off Robert’s words, growing annoyed with him.
Robert nodded slightly and replied, "The Marshal is expecting you. Please, follow ."
Dante nodded subtly. His n stayed behind. No one other than an assassin was allowed to enter the Continental, and while he could have brought assassins into the establishnt, he saw no need to.
When they arrived at the reception area, there was no one there except the hotel staff.
The case in which Dante had beco involved had escalated beyond manageable levels due to lower-level individuals. This ti, a Marshal was in charge of resolving the misunderstandings caused by the High Order itself.
"Dan, our most valuable asset, first let say that the High Order deeply regrets this misunderstanding. But let’s look on the bright side—no one managed to kill you," said the Marshal, a man in a red suit, exuding authority and power.
Dante’s gaze locked onto the man in the red suit, who, at first glance, seed to be the Marshal—a high-ranking mber of the High Order and an idiot with too much power.
"One million," Dante muttered as he sat across from the Marshal, who was accompanied by Susie.
"I don’t think I understand," the Marshal murmured, forcing a smile.
Dante grabbed the bottle of wine on the table and poured himself a glass. "They killed fifteen good soldiers. If we calculate it, that’s fifteen families without future support."
"You eliminated over a hundred elite soldiers from the High Order. I think we’d be fine considering leaving things as they are. The High Order will consider this nothing and maintain your privileges with us as they stand," the Marshal said arrogantly, clearly not understanding who he was truly dealing with.
That arrogance, tinged with power, irritated Dante. He hadn’t taken this personally; he fully understood this could happen because High Order’s partners felt threatened by the ever-growing power of the Sons of Anarchy.
But now, with the High Order offering a way out, Dante wasn’t satisfied.
"You admit you’re at fault for the situation I found myself in? Then you’ll pay with your Continentals. Now, instead of fifteen million, it’ll be three hundred. Considering interest, I think I’ll take half of your Continentals."
Susie, sitting beside Dante, widened her eyes slightly. What did he just say?
This was an extrely dangerous threat that could end terribly, but since she trusted him, she didn’t intervene.
The Marshal, who had remained calm, murmured, "You’re truly an idiot..." when he heard the most absurd words of his life.
"And you all think you’re above everything. Now I want you to make a call and confirm that in half of your Continentals, there’s a man in a red suit with a large suitcase in his hands," Dante said, cutting off any response the Marshal might have had.
"I enjoy explosions, and I like destroying things when they’re a real nuisance. We have a mutual agreent with the High Order, but that doesn’t an I’m your dog. Since you violated the treaty we mutually agreed upon, you’ll have to pay for all the damage with interest."
"So?"
"So, you’ll pay three hundred million dollars now, or my n will explore half of your Continentals. A display of power, because I am soone with power. Do you understand?" Dante calmly sipped the wine from his glass. "Susie, make the call."
"Right away," Susie said, raising the phone in her hand and dialing the administrator, Julia.
"Are you joking with ?" The Marshal’s unnatural expression was a sight to behold.
Dante watched as the Marshal’s arrogance turned into sheer worry. After all, if this negotiation went south, it wouldn’t matter if he lived any longer.
"Make the call," the Marshal said, wanting to verify whether what he’d heard was truth or lies.
"Ti’s running out, Marshal. I have a eting with my father-in-law," Dante said coldly, glancing around.
"Wait a second," the Marshal replied, his expression serious.
"Don’t you know who I am? I’m the leader of the Sons of Anarchy. I took power from every organization in New York in under two years, and now my influence spreads everywhere like an unstoppable disease." Dante locked eyes with the Marshal before turning to Susie. "Do you think I’m lying, Susie?"
"You’ve never lied," Susie said with a big smile. Whether or not he was lying now didn’t matter to her.
"See? I don’t lie," Dante said, maintaining his grin. He truly did have n stationed in half of the High Order’s Continentals.
All of them carried a suitcase with a large bomb ready to detonate on his command, though that wouldn’t happen if the High Order apologized and t his demands.
In just a few minutes, the Marshal received confirmation from his call: "It’s confird—there are n with large suitcases in the reception areas of over half the Continentals."
"How dare you?" the Marshal shouted, standing up and pointing a gun at Dante.
"Sit down, Marshal," Dante said calmly. "Even if you kill now, it won’t change what’s already in motion. My n will finish the job. Why do you think I ca here with only my future wife?"
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