Chapter 2 - The Lion's Den
The bullet tore through the stone precisely where Gabriel’s head had been a fraction of a second earlier, showering us in sharp, white plaster dust.
Before the echoes of the gunshot could fade, Gabriel’s instincts took over. He grabbed the back of my neck, shoving me down onto the floorboards of the SUV as his men erupted into action. Shouts in Italian and English pierced the air, accompanied by the thunderous roar of automatic gunfire returning fire toward the belfry.
"Drive!" Gabriel roared to the chauffeur, slamming the heavy armored door shut.
The SUV screeched out of the alley, the tires smoking against the wet asphalt. I lay cramped in the footwell, my heart hammering against my ribs, the scent of expensive leather and gunpowder filling my nose. Gabriel was leaning over me, his body acting as a shield, his hand still firmly pressing my head down.
"Are you hit?" he demanded, his voice tight.
"No," I choked out, pushing myself up as the vehicle stabilized on the main road. "But your security is a joke."
Gabriel’s eyes flared with a dangerous, golden light. He sat back on the leather seat, adjusting the cuffs of his black shirt, though his hands were trembling slightly. "That sniper was not aiming for me."
I stared at him, brushing stone dust from my black coat. "What do you mean?"
"The angle," Gabriel said coldly, looking out the tinted window. "If they wanted me, they had three clear shots while I was walking down the cathedral steps. They waited until you stepped into the light. They wanted the ghost dead before she could speak."
"Then they know," I whispered. "They know Natalie had a sister. Or they think she survived the crash."
The SUV wound through the industrial underbelly of Chicago, eventually pulling into a gated estate surrounded by high brick walls topped with razor wire. This was the Donatelli stronghold—a massive, stone-and-glass fortress overlooking the grey, churning waters of Lake Michigan.
Inside, the house was a temple of quiet wealth and loud paranoia. Heavy velvet curtains blocked the windows, and security monitors flickered in every corner. Gabriel led me into his private study, a room lined with dark mahogany bookshelves and smell of scotch and old paper.
He poured two glasses of neat whiskey, handing one to me. I took it but set it on the desk without drinking. My father’s training: Never consume anything prepared by a man who lives in a fortress.
Gabriel noticed, and a ghost of a smirk touched his lips. "You really are her twin. She did the exact same thing the first time she sat in that chair. She told me she didn't trust men who drank expensive poison."
"She was right," I said. "Now, tell me the truth. Why did Natalie die?"
Gabriel walked to the window, peering through a slit in the heavy drapes. "Three weeks ago, Natalie took a series of photographs for her gallery exhibition. She was a street photographer; she loved capturing the raw, ugly parts of the city. But she captured something she shouldn't have. A meeting between one of my captains and a representative from the Moretti family—our bitterest rivals."
"Who was the captain?"
"I don't know," Gabriel admitted, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "The negatives went missing from her gallery the night before she died. Rachel Bell, her assistant, told me Natalie had hidden a backup drive somewhere. The day after, Natalie’s car went off the road."
"And you think the traitor in your family killed her to protect their identity," I said, the pieces falling into place.
"Yes." Gabriel turned to face me, his expression hardening. "But the killer doesn't know where the backup drive is. They think Natalie had it on her. When you walked into that cathedral today, looking exactly like her, the traitor panicked. They thought she had come back from the dead to expose them."
"So we use that," I said, stepping closer to him.
Gabriel frowned. "Use what?"
"The fear," I said, my voice dripping with a cold, calculated venom. "I will become Natalie. I will walk into your world, sit at your table, and look every one of your men in the eye. Whoever flinches first is our killer."
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Gabriel stared at me, his gaze dropping to my lips before rising back to my eyes. "You don't know what you're asking, Lauren. My world isn't a game. If they realize you're a fake, they won't just kill you. They will make you beg for the death Natalie got."
"I survived our parents' lessons, Gabriel," I said, leaning in until I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. "I can survive your court of thieves."
