Chapter 8 - The Breach at the River Gate
Victor’s tactical radio crackled to life with panicked shouts from the northern gatehouse.
“Breach! Heavy truck rammed the river gate! Multiple armed hostiles advancing through the lower terrace!”
Gabriel stood up instantly, his dark eyes instantly snapping into tactical lethality.
He pulled open the false wall panel behind his desk, revealing a rack of tactical weapons and ballistic vests.
"Victor! Get Maya and the children into the secondary vault beneath the wine cellar!" Gabriel roared into his collar radio.
"On it, boss!" Victor shouted back over the intercom. "I have Leo and Khloe now!"
Maya grabbed Gabriel’s arm, her face pale with terror. "Gabriel, who is out there?!"
"Moretti's crew," Gabriel replied calmly, slipping a lightweight Kevlar vest over his dress shirt and racking the slide of an assault rifle.
"They thought your presence here made me weak. They came to prove a point."
He framed her face with his large, gloved hands, looking directly into her eyes with fierce devotion.
"Listen to me, Maya. Nobody breaches this house while I am drawing breath. Go with Victor."
Maya didn't scream, and she didn't panic; she threw her arms around Gabriel’s neck, kissing his scarred cheek with desperate intensity.
"Come back to us," she whispered fiercely.
"Always," he promised.
Gabriel stepped out into the grand hallway as gunfire erupted from the lower garden terrace.
Heavy caliber rounds shattered the antique stained-glass windows, sending colorful shards raining across the marble staircase.
Ten of Gabriel’s elite guards were already engaged in heavy suppressing fire, holding the grand foyer against the advancing intruders.
Through the smoke and shattered glass, Salvatore Moretti stepped onto the terrace, holding an automatic weapon, flanked by six armored mercenaries.
Beside him stumbled Richard Collins, looking utterly terrified, forced forward at gunpoint as a human shield.
"Russo!" Salvatore’s voice echoed through the high-ceilinged mansion over the thunder of gunfire.
"Hand over the girl and the kids, and maybe I'll let you keep your life and your shipping docks!"
Gabriel stepped out onto the second-floor mezzanine, completely exposed under the grand chandelier, his rifle leveled at center mass.
"You came to the wrong house, Salvatore," Gabriel said, his voice carrying clearly over the chaos.
Richard Collins looked up, his eyes widening in pure horror as he recognized the man who held absolute dominion over New York.
"Sal, let's get out of here!" Richard screamed, trying to turn back toward the lawn. "This is suicide!"
"Shut up!" Salvatore snarled, raising his weapon toward the mezzanine.
Before Salvatore could pull the trigger, Gabriel fired three rapid, pinpoint rounds.
The bullets struck Salvatore’s weapon, shattering the receiver and sending hot shrapnel tearing into the mobster’s shoulder.
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Salvatore shrieked in agony, dropping to his knees on the marble steps as Gabriel’s secondary tactical squad breached the garden doors behind them.
Within ninety seconds, every single one of Moretti’s mercenaries was disarmed, pinned to the floor in heavy zip-ties, while Richard Collins curled into a weeping ball beneath a console table.
