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“Congratulations On Your Engagement. I Quit.” She Said—The Mafia Boss’s Smile Disappeared / Chapter 6 / 15

Chapter 7 - The Underground Escape

The damp, salt-laden wind of the industrial harbor whipped through the open bay doors of the loading dock, smelling of diesel, brine, and impending rain. Gunfire echoed distantly through the concrete corridors behind them as Marcus held the rear exit, laying down suppressive fire against the advancing Marino enforcers.

Gabriel pulled Clara hard behind a stack of wooden crates marked with Costa Syndicate shipping labels. The neon glow of the harbor crane cast long, jagged shadows across his face, accentuating the faint streak of blood running down his jawline from a flying shard of chandelier glass.

"The cargo launch is docked at slip four," Gabriel said, his voice clipped and urgent, stripping off his ruined suit jacket and tossing it aside. "It'll take us across the bay to the old warehouse district. From there, we hit the highway."

Clara clutched her leather clutch tightly against her chest, her breathing ragged as she stared up at him in the dim light. "I didn't ask for a getaway car, Gabriel. I asked to be released. Let me walk away."

Gabriel grabbed her shoulders, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a fierce, possessive intensity that made the surrounding gunfire fade into absolute background noise. "You can walk away from the syndicate, Clara. You can burn the ledgers, quit the office, and throw away your security badges. But you are never walking away from me."

Before Clara could formulate a reply, a deafening roar cut through the night air.

Boom.

A rocket-propelled grenade slammed into the upper concrete overhang of the loading dock, sending a massive fireball billowing toward the sky and raining tons of burning debris across the wharf. Through the blinding smoke and ash, a fleet of three black armored SUVs tore through the chain-link perimeter fence, their high-beam headlights slicing through the fog like searchlights.

Don Salvatore Marino stepped out of the lead vehicle, holding a tactical shotgun, flanked by a dozen heavily armed soldiers in full combat gear.

"Costa!" Marino’s voice boomed across the tarmac, echoing off the iron hulls of the docked container ships. "You think you can humiliate my family and walk out of my city? Hand over the girl and the ledger, and I might let you crawl back to your father's grave alive!"

Gabriel stepped out from behind the wooden crates, his Sig Sauer raised in a steady, two-handed grip, entirely unfazed by the overwhelming firepower staring him down.

"Salvatore," Gabriel called back, his voice cool and dripping with lethal mockery. "You always were terrible at math. You brought twelve men to a massacre."

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Arthur Sterling tapped his leather-wrapped fingers against the steering wheel of his matte-black Bentley, staring at the imposing wrought-iron gates of his own estate. To the world, the Sterling name was synonymous with untouchable wealth, bleeding-edge tech investments, and a picture-perfect modern family. But as the automated gates slid open with a soft, expensive hum, Arthur didn't feel like a master of a universe; he felt like a stranger walking into a trap he had built with his own hands.

Arthur Sterling tapped his leather-wrapped fingers against the steering...

The sound hung in the air, rhythmic and deliberate—tap, tap, tap—reverberating directly through the plaster of the master bedroom's walk-in closet wall.

The sound hung in the air, rhythmic and deliberate—tap, tap, tap—reverbe...

The wind on the balcony was sharp, carrying the bitter, fish-heavy tang of the Boston Harbor. It hit Dileia like a physical blow, cutting right through the thin polyester of her service uniform. She shivered, though she refused to wrap her arms around herself. Doing so would look like weakness, and tonight, weakness was a currency she couldn't afford to spend.

The wind on the balcony was sharp, carrying the bitter, fish-heavy tang...

Marcus dropped out of the gantry crane above, landing soundlessly behind the Marino convoy, immediately disabling the lead SUV's engine block with a well-placed round through the radiator.

"Now, Clara," Gabriel muttered without breaking eye contact with the enemy, his hand reaching back to intertwine his fingers firmly with hers. "Run."

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