Chapter 13 - The Echo in the Dark
The armored SUV moved smoothly through the subterranean tunnel leading into the Rinaldi Tower's private underground garage. The heavy hydraulic steel security doors ground shut behind them, sealing the convoy off from the chaos of the city above.
"Boss," Dominic called out from the front passenger seat, looking back through the partition. "Perimeter is secure. The penthouse is locked down. We have twenty men on the elevator banks and snipers on the parapets. Vincent won't get within three miles of this building."
Gabriel didn't answer.
He looked down at Elsie. The little girl had fallen back into a light, peaceful sleep, her small head resting against his thigh, her chest rising and falling with effortless, clean breaths. In her sleep, her tiny fingers relaxed, and the crumpled blue paper star slipped from her grip, landing on the dark leather seat between them.
Gabriel picked up the star.
*She carries the blood of the brother who betrayed you.*
Julian Rinaldi. The golden child. The brother Gabriel had protected from their abusive father, the brother Gabriel had shielded from the violence of the streets, only to be shot in the back and left to rot in an alley while Julian fled with the family’s wealth. Gabriel had spent five years hunting the ghost of his brother, swearing an oath on his mother’s grave that any trace of Julian’s bloodline would be erased from the earth.
And now, Julian’s daughter was sleeping on his lap.
Gabriel looked at her small, innocent face. The soft curve of her nose, the delicate eyelashes, the tiny scar on her chin where she had fallen off a tricycle three weeks ago. There was no greed in her face. No malice. No betrayal. There was only the pure, terrifying trust of a child who had chosen him as her protector.
Gabriel’s fingers tightened around the blue star, not crushing it, but holding it with fierce, unyielding resolve.
"Boss?" Dominic asked again, sensing the heavy, suffocating silence in the vehicle. "Did you hear the message from the docks? What are we doing about Vincent?"
Gabriel looked up. His eyes were completely void of conflict. The cold, ruthless fire that had conquered an empire had returned, refined into something far deadlier: a father’s wrath.
"Dominic," Gabriel said, his voice flat, terrifying in its absolute clarity. "Mobilize every man we have in the state. Empty the armory at the warehouse. Bring the heavy ordinance."
Dominic’s eyes widened slightly. "Boss? You're going to the docks?"
"No," Gabriel whispered. "Vincent expects me to negotiate. He expects me to bring him the girl to prove my loyalty to the code. He thinks I care about Julian's betrayal."
Gabriel leaned down, carefully lifting Elsie into his arms, tucking her head against his neck.
"Vincent thinks I am fighting for Julian's debt," Gabriel said, stepping out of the SUV into the private elevator lobby. "He doesn't understand. Julian is dead. The past is dead. Elsie is a Rinaldi now. And anyone who threatens a Rinaldi does not get a meeting. They get an extinction."
Dominic nodded, a grim, ferocious smile spreading across his lips. "And what about the docks, sir?"
"Turn the docks into a graveyard," Gabriel said coldly as the elevator doors began to close. "Leave nothing standing."
The elevator began its sixty-floor ascent toward the penthouse.
Inside the quiet cabin, Elsie stirred in Gabriel’s arms. She blinked her sleepy hazel eyes, looking up at him in the warm light of the elevator. She reached up, her tiny hand brushing against the collar of his coat, feeling the folded blue star he had tucked into his pocket.
"Mr. Gabriel?" she murmured groggily.
"I’m here, little star," he replied, holding her tightly.
"Are the bad men gone?"
Gabriel looked at the floor indicator as it passed the fiftieth floor, then looked back into her pure, searching eyes.
"Not yet, Elsie," Gabriel said softly. "But they will be by morning."
*Ding.*
The elevator arrived at the private penthouse suite. The gilded doors slid open into the sprawling, luxurious foyer.
Gabriel stepped forward, ready to carry her inside—but he froze dead in his tracks.
Standing in the center of the vast, marble living room, illuminated only by the gray daylight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, stood a woman.
She was dressed in a dark traveling coat, her hair damp with rain, her face pale, beautiful, and haunted.
Gabriel’s breath caught in his throat. His entire body locked into stone.
The woman looked up, her tear-filled hazel eyes meeting Gabriel’s in absolute silence—the exact same hazel eyes as the little girl sleeping in his arms.
"Gabriel," the woman whispered, her voice shaking violently. "You should have left her where she was."
May you like
It was Clara Danvers.
The woman who had supposedly died in a public hospice ward three weeks ago was standing ten feet in front of him, alive. And in her trembling right hand, she held a detonator.