Chapter 3 - The Broken King
Gunfire ripped through the cavernous space in deafening staccato bursts.
Sullivan’s men barely had time to raise their weapons before Gabriel’s tactical team breached through the secondary loading docks, their suppressed carbines coughing in rhythmic, deadly unison.
Sullivan screamed in terror, dropping his cigarette and scrambling behind a bank of stainless-steel refrigeration units.
"Cover the back!" Sullivan shrieked, firing three wild shots into the smoke.
A bullet pinged off the rusted iron leg of Meline’s chair, throwing sparks into the dark.
Gabriel crossed the open floor in four furious strides.
He didn't even look at the armed thug rushing him from the left; with a single, brutal sidestep, Gabriel caught the man's throat in his left hand and drove his skull straight into a steel girder with bone-cracking force.
The man slumped into a lifeless heap on the floor.
Gabriel turned his weapon toward Sullivan’s hiding spot, firing twice through the thin sheet metal.
A high-pitched howl of agony echoed from behind the cooler as Sullivan fell to his knees, clutching a shattered shoulder.
"Drop it, Victor," Leo’s calm voice boomed through the haze as two Rossi enforcers pinned Sullivan flat against the bloody concrete.
The firing stopped as abruptly as it had begun.
The warehouse fell into an eerie, suffocating silence, broken only by the hiss of punctured steam pipes and Meline’s ragged, terrified sobs.
Gabriel let his weapon drop to his side.
He slowly turned toward the iron chair in the center of the room.
When his eyes fell upon her—upon the torn lace of her blouse, the dark blood dried against her ear, and the purple thumb-shaped bruises darkening her pale throat—the legendary Don of the Rossi family stopped dead in his tracks.
The gun slipped from his fingers, clattering loudly against the floor.
His chest heaved as if all the oxygen had been vacuumed from the room.
"Meline," he choked out.
It wasn't the voice of a feared syndicate kingpin.
It was the broken, desperate whimper of a boy watching his entire universe burn to ash.
He rushed forward, dropping heavily onto both knees right into the dirty grease and broken glass at her feet.
His large, powerful hands hovered over her trembling body, shaking so violently he couldn't touch her, terrified that his very skin might hurt her further.
"What did they do to you?" he wept, tears suddenly spilling freely down his carved cheekbones. "Meline... my God, what did they do to you?"
Meline looked down at the ruthless man on his knees before her, crying into her lap like a shattered child.
"Gabriel?" she whispered, her vision swimming with tears and shock.
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Gabriel buried his face against her bound hands, his broad shoulders convulsing in silent, agonizing sobs.
"I'm sorry," he wept against her skin. "I'm so sorry. I should have kept you safe. I swore I would keep you safe."
