Chapter 6 - The Trap Snaps Shut
""Take him!"" Silvio roared, completely abandoning his polished veneer as panic overtook his senses.
The lead bodyguard, Thomas, whipped his suppressed submachine gun out from beneath his trench coat, pivoting toward the staircase to eliminate the child witness first. But Thomas never completed the motion.
From the darkened shadows of the dining room archway, a deafening shot rang out. The high-caliber slug struck Thomas directly in the center of his chest plate, lifting his two-hundred-pound frame off his feet and slamming him violently against the stone hearth. He collapsed onto the rug, gasping for air as his weapon clattered across the floorboards.
Caleb Stone stepped out from behind the velvet curtains, holding a heavy tactical shotgun at his shoulder, smoke curling from the vented barrel. Behind him, four of my elite inner-circle guards emerged from the service hallways, their assault rifles raised, red laser targeting dots dancing across the chests of Silvio’s remaining two bodyguards.
""Drop your iron,"" Caleb barked, racking another shell into the chamber with a terrifying, mechanical clack. ""Drop it now, or we paint this wallpaper red.""
The two surviving enforcers looked at their fallen leader, looked at the red dots covering their hearts, and immediately unbuckled their holsters, letting their weapons drop to the Persian rug with dull thuds. They raised their hands high above their heads, backing slowly toward the wall.
Silvio stood frozen in the center of the room, his chest heaving, his expensive silk tie askew. His manicured hands were trembling uncontrollably.
""Gabriel,"" Silvio sputtered, his voice cracking into a high-pitched whine. ""Think about what you're doing! I'm your blood! I'm your father's brother! You can't execute family on Christmas Eve over the paranoid ramblings of a dead boy and an art school whore!""
I walked over to the coffee table, picked up Julian's watch, and slipped it into my pocket. Then, I closed the distance between us until I was standing two inches from Silvio’s face. I towered over him, my shadow swallowing him whole in the firelight.
""Julian was family,"" I said, my voice dropping so low it sounded like a funeral bell tolling in winter. ""He shared our blood. He carried our name. And you had him run off an icy bridge because he refused to let you sell our ports to heroin cartels.""
""You have no proof!"" Silvio screamed, sweat pouring down his forehead and stinging his eyes. ""A watch isn't proof! No court in the country—""
""I don't operate in public courts, Silvio,"" I cut him off, grabbing him by the lapels of his thousand-dollar cashmere coat and lifting him until his polished shoes barely scraped the hardwood. ""You know how our world works. We don't need twelve jurors. We only need the truth. And in five minutes, you are going to tell me every single name involved in Julian's death.""
I turned my head toward Caleb. ""Take these two mercenaries and throw them in the wine cellar under armed guard. Search their phones and vehicles. Then bring Silvio down to the basement interrogation room.""
""Gabriel, please!"" Silvio begged, his knees giving out as I dropped him onto the floor. ""We can make a deal! Half the riverfront revenue! Sixty percent! I’ll leave the country—I’ll take a plane to Sicily tonight and never set foot in the United States again!""
""You aren't going to Sicily, Uncle,"" I said, turning my back on him. ""You're going to answer for my brother.""
Up on the mezzanine, Nora had rushed out, pulling Maisie securely into her arms. She buried the little girl’s face into her shoulder, shielding her from the sight of the blood on the hearth and the broken men being dragged away in zip-ties.
Maisie didn't cry. As she peeked over her mother’s shoulder, her large, bright eyes locked onto mine. She pointed at the fireplace, then at me, giving me a tiny, solemn nod of understanding. She didn't understand the syndicate, nor did she understand murder, but she knew that the bad man with the shiny shoes would never scare her mother again.
""Caleb,"" I called out over my shoulder as the guards dragged a screaming Silvio out of the room.
May you like
""Yes, Boss?""
""Have the cleaning crew scrub the hearth,"" I said calmly. ""And call the estate chef. Tell him to prepare a full Christmas dinner for four people in the private dining room. Roast turkey, mashed potatoes, and whatever dessert that little girl wants.""
