Chapter 8 - The Fall of the Syndicate
Gabriel moved like a striking panther. He burst from behind the limestone planter before the remaining men could reorient their aim.
His first shot took the third mercenary in the shoulder, spinning him over the low terrace railing into the safety nets four stories below. The fourth shooter turned his barrel toward Hannah, but Gabriel crossed the distance in a single leap, slamming his forearm into the man’s throat with bone-crushing force, disarming him and tossing him down the emergency stairwell.
That left Sergei Volkov.
The Russian mob boss panicked, realizing his trap had collapsed in less than ten seconds. He lunged forward, drawing a serrated hunting knife from his boot, aiming a vicious slash at Gabriel’s midsection.
Gabriel sidestepped the blade with practiced ease, but the sharp tip caught his left forearm, slicing through the fine fabric of his shirt and drawing a crimson line across his skin.
""Gabriel!"" Hannah cried out, stepping forward.
""Stay back, Hannah!"" Gabriel commanded, his voice cold and devoid of pain.
Volkov grinned, showing yellowed teeth, and slashed again. ""You're getting slow, Moretti! Grief made you soft!""
Gabriel didn't retreat this time. He caught Volkov’s descending wrist in a vice-like grip, his fingers digging into the nerve clusters until the Russian cried out in pain. With a brutal twist, Gabriel snapped Volkov’s wrist like dry kindling. The knife clattered harmlessly onto the wet flagstones.
Gabriel drove his right fist into Volkov’s jaw with the force of a battering ram. The mob boss staggered backward, his heels catching against the stone ledge of the balustrade.
Before Volkov could regain his footing, Gabriel grabbed him by the lapels of his tuxedo, hoisting him half over the edge of the eleventh-story drop. The wind whipped Volkov’s coat wildly as he stared down at the dizzying expanse of Lake Shore Drive below.
""Wait! Wait, Gabriel!"" Volkov gasped, his arrogance instantly evaporating into pathetic terror. ""We can make a deal! The docks! The river routes—I give them all to you!""
Gabriel’s eyes were completely devoid of mercy. ""Fourteen months ago, you ordered a truck to crush a car carrying a mother and a six-year-old child. You made my son spend a year living in terror that his voice would bring death.""
""It was business! Just business!"" Volkov shrieked, clawing at Gabriel’s iron grip.
""Julianna was business,"" Gabriel whispered, leaning in close until his lips almost touched the trembling man's ear. ""Noah was family. And tonight, you threatened his mother.""
Gabriel didn't drop him into the abyss. Instead, with a roar of pure physical power, he swung Volkov around and slammed him down onto the concrete terrace floor with a concussive thud, pinning his neck beneath the heavy heel of his shoe.
At that precise moment, the steel terrace doors were kicked open.
Tiny and Calvin burst onto the roof, flanked by ten elite Moretti security operatives in tactical gear, followed closely by Chicago Police Commissioner James Vance and four federal marshals.
""Gabriel!"" Commissioner Vance shouted, his weapon drawn but lowered. ""Stand down! We have the warrants!""
Gabriel looked down at Volkov, then slowly removed his shoe from the man's throat. ""He's all yours, Commissioner. Attempted murder, corporate extortion, and the documented murder of Julianna Moretti. Calvin has the encrypted server logs in the car.""
Federal marshals immediately swarm-tackled Volkov, pinning his arms behind his back and hauling him away in heavy steel handcuffs, the Russian weeping curses into the freezing wind.
Tiny rushed over to Hannah, his massive face creased with frantic worry. ""Miss Hannah! Are you hurt? Did they touch you?""
""I'm fine, Tiny,"" Hannah said, her breath shaking as the adrenaline began to ebb away. She ran over to Gabriel, tearing a strip of linen from the hem of her under-skirt. ""You're bleeding.""
Gabriel looked down at his arm as if noticing the cut for the first time. He reached out with his uninjured hand, catching her trembling fingers and pulling her against his chest.
""It's just a scratch,"" he murmured, his face burying into the warmth of her neck. ""You're safe. Noah is safe. It’s over.""
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Hannah closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around the broad expanse of his shoulders, leaning into the intoxicating strength of the man who had torn apart the criminal underworld just to keep her and his son whole.
""Take us home, Gabriel,"" she whispered against his collar. ""Take us home to Noah."""
