Chapter 6 - The Viper in the Ranks
The safehouse in Riverdale was an imposing stone manor hidden behind ten-foot brick walls and thick wrought-iron gates, nestled within a grove of mature oak trees overlooking the Hudson River. Within an hour of their arrival, the perimeter was locked down by twenty of Gabriel’s most trusted men, all vetted personally by Marco. A private obstetric nurse had already arrived, checking Laura’s vitals and confirming that the baby had suffered no distress from the highway shootout.
Laura was settled in the second-floor master suite, sipping warm broth while the rain began to fall in sheets against the reinforced glass windows. Downstairs, in the soundproofed basement cellar, Gabriel was finishing an interrogation.
The door to the cellar swung open, and Gabriel walked into the ground-floor study, wiping his hands with a clean white towel. His face was a mask of cold fury. Marco was standing by the desk, holding a burner phone retrieved from the flatbed driver.
""He talked,"" Gabriel said, tossing the towel into the leather wastebasket.
""Was it Salvatore DeLuca?"" Marco asked.
""Salvatore ordered the hit, yes. But he didn't track Laura to Mount Sinai on his own. He was fed our convoy route, our timing, and the vehicle plates forty minutes before we left the hospital."" Gabriel leaned over the desk, his knuckles whitening against the dark wood. ""The leak didn't come from your security detail, Marco. It came from inside the family council. Someone who had access to the private clinic’s security feed.""
""Vittorio,"" Marco muttered.
""Bring him here,"" Gabriel commanded. ""Tell him we need an emergency council meeting to discuss retaliation against the DeLucas. Tell him Laura was injured and I’m incapacitated by grief. Make him feel safe.""
Two hours later, an armored town car pulled through the Riverdale gates. Uncle Vittorio stepped out, wearing a cashmere coat, his silver hair neatly styled, his expression a calculated mix of solemn concern and hidden ambition. For thirty years, Vittorio had believed he was the rightful heir to the Bellini syndicate, pushed aside first by Gabriel’s father, and then by Gabriel himself.
Vittorio was escorted into the study. The heavy oak door clicked shut behind him, and the metallic slide of a deadbolt sliding into place made the older man pause.
Gabriel was sitting behind the desk. He was not injured. He was not grieving. He looked like an emperor presiding over an execution. On the desk sat two items: Vittorio’s encrypted satellite phone and an audio recorder.
""Gabriel, thank God you’re safe,"" Vittorio began, taking a step forward with his arms spread. ""We heard rumors of a disaster on the parkway. The council is in an uproar. Where is Laura? Is the child—""
""Press play, Marco,"" Gabriel said, cutting him off without blinking.
Marco pressed the button on the recorder. Vittorio’s own voice spilled into the room, crisp and undeniable: “The Suburban is taking the 178th Street exit. She’s in the rear. Take the woman, eliminate the driver. Gabriel will trade every harbor contract in the state to get that unborn bastard back. Once he gives up the docks, the council will vote him out for weakness.”
Vittorio froze. The color drained from his weathered face, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly.
""You called my son a bastard,"" Gabriel whispered, rising from his chair.
""Gabriel... listen to me,"" Vittorio stammered, backing toward the locked door, his hands trembling as he reached behind his back. ""It was business! You were losing control! You married an outsider, you weakened our bloodline, and now you’ve disgraced the family by publicly accusing her, only to find out you were wrong! The syndicate is laughing at us! I did what was necessary to save the Bellini name!""
""You allied with Salvatore DeLuca,"" Gabriel snarled, crossing the room with terrifying speed. Before Vittorio could draw his weapon, Gabriel grabbed him by the throat, lifting the older man off his feet and slamming him against the paneled wall with enough force to crack the wood. ""You sent automatic weapons against my pregnant wife. You put my blood in the crosshairs of street trash.""
""I am your father’s brother!"" Vittorio wheezed, his face turning purple, his fingers clawing uselessly at Gabriel’s iron grip. ""You can't kill me! The commission—""
""The commission respects power,"" Gabriel said, his voice dropping into a lethal, venomous hiss. ""And you have none.""
Gabriel did not draw his gun. He dropped Vittorio to the floor, where the old man coughed and gagged, gasping for air. Gabriel looked down at him with utter disgust.
""Death is too quick for you, Uncle,"" Gabriel said cold. ""Marco, take him to the federal prosecutor’s office in lower Manhattan. Deliver him with the complete ledger of his offshore narcotics kickbacks and his signed contracts with DeLuca. By morning, Vittorio will be in a federal penitentiary where he will spend the rest of his miserable life in solitary confinement, branded as an informant by the very men he tried to conspire with.""
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Two guards dragged Vittorio out, his pathetic screams echoing down the corridor before being swallowed by the heavy doors.
Gabriel stood in the empty room, breathing heavily. He looked up at the ceiling, toward the room where Laura was resting. The physical threats were eliminated. The traitors were purged. But the hardest trial of his life was still waiting at the top of the stairs.
