Chapter 7 - The Trap Sprung"Die? Not today, Elena," Gabriel stepped fully into the harsh light of the warehouse, his posture commanding and unbreakable. I stayed a step behind him, keeping the revolver raised just as he taught me, my heart pounding in my throat.
Julian Vance recovered his composure faster than the others. He adjusted his glasses, forcing a smooth, corporate smile onto his face.
"Gabriel, my friend, let's not be hasty," Julian began, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "This is all a misunderstanding. A corporate restructuring gone slightly off-rails. We can negotiate—"
"Negotiate?" Gabriel cut him off, a lethal edge in his voice. "You tried to poison me from the inside out, you blew up my home, and you conspired with my own blood to steal my empire. There's nothing to negotiate."
Elena laughed, a high, shrill sound that echoed off the metal walls. "And what are you going to do, big brother? Shoot us all? Look around."
With a sharp snap of her fingers, the shadows above us suddenly came alive.
From the catwalks overhead, a half-dozen heavily armed mercenaries stepped into view, laser sights clicking on and painting red dots across Gabriel's chest and mine.
Julian’s smile returned, sharper this time. "You always relied too much on muscle, Gabriel. In the modern world, information and positioning win the war. And you walked right into our crosshairs."
Carmine wasn't with us—he was securing the outside perimeter. We were completely outnumbered, cornered in an open warehouse floor with no immediate cover.
My breath hitched. My finger tightened on the revolver's trigger.
Gabriel didn't panic. He didn't even flinch. He just looked up at the mercenaries on the catwalk, then back to his sister.
"You think you hired the best security money can buy, Elena?" Gabriel asked softly.
Elena frowned, a flicker of doubt crossing her eyes. "What are you talking about?"
"Vincenzo!" Gabriel shouted into the cavernous space.
From the high rafters directly behind Elena’s mercenaries, the heavy metal security doors of the catwalk burst open. Vincenzo Rossi stepped out, flanked by a dozen of Gabriel's most elite, loyal enforcers. Their assault rifles were already locked, loaded, and pointed straight at the mercenaries' backs.
"Drop your weapons or get ventilated," Vincenzo barked, his voice echoing like thunder.
The mercenaries looked at each other, weighed their options for half a second, and immediately dropped their rifles to the metal grating with a loud clatter.
Elena’s jaw dropped. She spun around to face Julian, her eyes wide with panic. "You said Vincenzo was neutralized! You said he was loyal to us!"
Julian backed away, holding his hands up frantically. "I didn't know! I swear, I didn't know!"
"You didn't know because you're a desk-jockey playing a game you don't understand," Gabriel said, walking slowly forward until he stood inches from his sister.
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Elena trembled, all her fierce bravado evaporating into thin air. "Gabriel... please. We're family. We share blood."
"You shared blood," Gabriel corrected coldly, raising his pistol and pressing the cold barrel directly against Julian Vance’s forehead. "Now, you share a grave."
