Chapter 3 - Blood in the HallwayThe metallic click of the tumbler sliding into place sounded like a gunshot in the cramped apartment.
Gabriel pulled me behind his broad shoulder, his left hand gripping my wrist with an ironclad yet protective hold. He raised his pistol, aiming directly at the center of the wooden door.
The door swung inward.
A masked figure stepped into the threshold, holding a silenced submachine gun. He didn't even have time to raise his weapon.
Bang. Bang.
Two deafening shots echoed inside the small room. The intruder jerked violently backward and collapsed onto the welcome mat, blood pooling rapidly across the cracked tiles.
Before the echo could fade, a second silhouette appeared in the doorway, firing blindly into the room. Plaster showered down from the ceiling as bullets chewed through the walls.
"Down!" Gabriel shouted, shoving me toward the floor behind the heavy kitchen counter.
He returned fire with terrifying precision. A suppressed groan echoed from the hallway, followed by the heavy thud of a second body hitting the floorboards. Silence descended on the apartment once more, broken only by the steady patter of rain outside and the frantic beating of my own heart.
Gabriel crouched beside me, checking my arms and shoulders. "Are you hit?"
"No," I gasped, clutching my stomach. "The baby... I think the baby's okay."
Gabriel exhaled a shaky breath, pressing a quick, fierce kiss to my forehead. "They weren't random thugs. Those were Daniel's personal clean-up crew. He knew I was coming here. Or..." Gabriel's eyes widened slightly. "Or he tracked my phone."
"You used your personal device?" I hissed.
"I didn't think he had access to my encrypted logs," Gabriel cursed under his breath, sliding the battery out of the satellite phone and crushing it beneath his heel. "We have less than five minutes before backup arrives. Come on."
He didn't wait for my answer. Scooping me up into his arms as if I weighed nothing at all, Gabriel kicked open the back window leading to the rusted fire escape. The cold Chicago wind lashed at our faces, but he didn't hesitate. He carried me down the creaking metal stairs in record time, ignoring the strain on his own body from past injuries.
Waiting at the bottom of the alleyway was a matte-black SUV with tinted windows. The rear door flew open instantly, revealing a stern-faced man in a tailored suit holding a first-aid kit.
"Boss! We intercepted transmissions—Daniel's men have locked down the district," Vance reported, his eyes darting nervously toward me. "Is that—"
"Drive, Vance," Gabriel interrupted, gently placing me onto the leather backseat before sliding in beside me and slamming the door. "Take us to the old boathouse on Lake Michigan. No stops."
The SUV surged forward into the dark, rain-slicked streets of Chicago.
I leaned my head against the window, watching the neon lights blur into streaks of red and white. "The boathouse? That place hasn't been secure in years."
"Exactly why Daniel doesn't know about it," Gabriel replied, pulling a medical roll from Vance's kit and gently tending to the raw, red skin around my scar. His touch was shockingly tender for a man whose hands had taken so many lives. "We regroup there. Then, we dismantle Daniel's entire operation piece by piece."
"And tomorrow night?" I asked, looking straight into his dark eyes. "The syndicate gala?"
May you like
Gabriel smiled—a cold, merciless grin that sent a shiver straight down my spine.
"Oh, we're going to the gala," he whispered. "And we're going to give Daniel a front-row seat to his own execution."
