Chapter 2 - THE WRECKAGE OF CONTROL
Blood on Emerald SilkIn the darkness, the world narrowed down to the sound of screaming below, the chaotic rush of footsteps, and the heavy, rhythmic thud of Gabriel’s heart against Chastity's back.
He held her pinned against the stone pillar, his massive frame completely covering her. The scent of him was overwhelming.
"Stay down," Gabriel commanded near her ear. His voice had completely lost its frantic edge; in the face of sudden violence, he was cold, analytical, and entirely in his element.
"Gabriel, what is happening?" she whispered, her hands gripping the rough wool of his overcoat.
"An ambush," he muttered, his eyes adjusting to the dim moonlight filtering through the high windows. "They didn't come for the politicians. They followed me from the warehouse."
Down in the ballroom, another burst of gunfire shattered the crystal chandeliers, sending a rain of glass cascading onto the screaming guests.
"Tommy!" Gabriel roared over the balcony.
A voice barked back from the darkness below. "Boss! They blocked the main exits! It’s the Leone crew! They brought heavy hardware!"
Gabriel cursed under his breath. The Leone family was a rival syndicate from the north side, a faction he had been slowly starving out of the shipping routes for months. They were desperate, and desperate men did desperate things.
Gabriel reached into his overcoat and pulled out a sleek, black semi-automatic pistol. The metallic clack of him chambering a round sounded terrifyingly loud in the enclosed space.
"Chastity, listen to me," Gabriel said, turning her around so he could look into her eyes. Even in the shadows, his gray eyes burned. "The service elevator behind the kitchen. It has an independent power grid. You take it straight to the basement. Mick is waiting in the armored SUV in the alley."
"I'm not leaving you," she said automatically.
Gabriel let out a harsh, breathless sound that might have been a laugh if they weren't being hunted. "This isn't a board meeting, Chastity. You don't have a weapon."
"I have the codes to every secure door in this building," she countered, her voice tight but fiercely stubborn. "The service elevator requires a biometric override tonight because of the gala's high-profile guests. You don't have my thumbprint, Gabriel. You won't even get past the kitchen doors."
Gabriel stared at her, a mixture of fury and dark admiration warring in his features. "If you get a single drop of blood on that dress, Chastity, I’m going to kill everyone in this city."
"Let's just get to the elevator," she said.
Gabriel took her hand, his large, warm fingers locking securely around hers. He led the way, moving with surprising silence for a man of his size. They slipped through the heavy double doors leading to the banquet kitchens, leaving the chaos of the ballroom behind.
The kitchen was a labyrinth of stainless-steel counters and industrial appliances, cast in deep, eerie shadows by the emergency backup lights.
Suddenly, a shadow lunged from behind a walk-in freezer.
A man dressed in tactical gear, carrying a shot-gun, leveled the barrel straight at Chastity.
Gabriel didn't hesitate. He threw himself in front of her, raising his pistol.
Thud.
Gabriel fired twice. The man collapsed onto the tile floor, his weapon clattering away.
But a third shot had echoed through the kitchen—not from Gabriel’s gun.
Gabriel stumbled forward, a low grunt escaping his lips. He slammed his hand against a steel counter to steady himself.
"Gabriel!" Chastity cried out, rushing to his side.
Her hands flew to his shoulder. Underneath the heavy cashmere coat, a thick, dark warmth was already blooming through his white shirt. The coppery smell of blood hit her nose instantly—the same smell from that violent Tuesday in November.
"It's a graze," Gabriel growled, his face pale, his teeth gritted. "Keep moving."
"It's not a graze, you idiot," Chastity said, her professional instincts kicking in. She ripped a clean linen towel from a nearby prep station, shoving it hard against the wound to stanch the bleeding. Gabriel gasped, his grip tightening on her waist until it was nearly painful.
"We don't have time," he hissed, his eyes locked on the kitchen doors as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder.
"The elevator is right there," Chastity said, pointing to a heavy steel door at the end of the corridor.
They scrambled to the panel. Chastity pressed her thumb against the glowing glass scanner. Access Approved. The heavy doors groaned open.
Gabriel shoved her inside, but as she tried to pull him in with her, he planted his boots firmly on the threshold.
"Gabriel, get in!" she screamed, grabbing his uninjured shoulder.
"There's only enough power in the backup generator to lift the car once, Chastity," Gabriel said, his voice deadly calm. He looked down at her, his eyes softening into something raw and tragic. "The weight limit is restricted on the backup line. If we both get in, the cable will jam halfway down the shaft. You go."
"No! I'm not leaving you to die in a kitchen!"
"I don't die in kitchens," Gabriel whispered. He reached out with his bloody hand, leaving a smear of deep crimson across her cheek, mirroring her lipstick. "You're the only thing I have that’s clean, Chastity. Keep it that way."
He hit the manual close button from the outside.
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"Gabriel!"
The heavy steel doors slid shut, sealing her inside the rising elevator car, leaving Gabriel Mercer alone in the dark with a smoking gun and a bleeding shoulder.
