Chapter 6 - The Gathering Storm
The peace was broken three weeks later, on a bitter Tuesday night in late December.
The sky was black, heavy with the promise of snow. Inside the mansion, the security center in the basement was bustling with activity. Monitors displayed feeds from fifty different cameras placed along the perimeter walls, the gatehouse, the docks, and the surrounding forest.
Gabriel stood in the monitoring room, surrounded by six of his top lieutenants. Lucian was tapping a finger on a screen displaying Pier 42.
"Moretti made his move two hours ago," Lucian reported, his tone dark. "He hijacked a shipment of specialized electronics meant for our primary buyer in Chicago. Three of our dock workers were put in the hospital."
Gabriel’s expression didn't change, but his eyes narrowed into two slits of cold gray slate. "Where is Julian now?"
"He's hiding out at his estate in the valley," Lucian said. "He thinks he's secure. He thinks he’s drawn a line in the sand and you won't cross it without calling a council meeting."
"Julian is mistaken," Gabriel said smoothly. "Assemble a team. Eight men. We leave in twenty minutes."
"Boss," Lucian warned quietly, stepping closer so the other men couldn't hear. "Julian is desperate. He knows he can't win a prolonged war. He might try something radical if he realizes you're coming for him."
"Let him try," Gabriel replied coldly. "He touched my people. He disrupted my trade. The response will be absolute."
Gabriel turned to leave the room, heading up the back staircase to his personal quarters to arm himself. As he reached the main hallway, he saw Maren coming out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of warm tea and cookies.
She stopped when she saw him. Gabriel was wearing a heavy black tactical coat over a bulletproof vest. A holstered sidearm was visible at his hip. The soft, gentle man who had fixed a teddy bear’s ear was completely gone; in his place stood the lethal boss of the Kane syndicate.
Maren’s face paled. She set the tray down on a side table.
"You're going out," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
"Business," Gabriel replied shortly, continuing his stride toward the front entrance.
Maren stepped into his path. It was an insanely dangerous move—blocking the path of an armed crime boss on his way to a hit—but she didn't hesitate.
"Gabriel, please," she said, using his first name without thinking. She reached out, her fingers brushing the stiff, cold fabric of his tactical coat. "It's freezing outside. It's dangerous."
Gabriel stopped. He looked down at her hand on his coat, then up into her terrified eyes.
"This is what I do, Maren," he said, his tone dry and hard. "It is how this house is paid for. It is how you and your daughter are protected."
"I don't care about the house!" she blurted out, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I care about... I care about you coming back."
The words hung in the cold hall, heavy and undeniable.
Gabriel looked at her for a long, silent moment. The icy armor he had spent twenty years constructing cracked just a little bit more. He raised his hand, his gloved fingers softly touching her jawline, brushing his thumb across her cheek.
"I will return," he promised softly. "Lock the internal security doors after we leave. Do not open them for anyone except Lucian or myself."
"Promise me," she whispered, leaning slightly into his touch.
May you like
"I promise," Gabriel said.
He pulled his hand back, turned on his heel, and walked out into the freezing night, where three black armoring SUVs were idling in the driveway, ready for war.
