Chapter 1 - Echoes in the GlassThe shattered glass of the kitchen window still rained tiny crystal shards onto the worn linoleum floor as Gabriel pinned me beneath his heavy frame. Outside, the rain in Pilsen fell harder, drumming a furious, relentless rhythm against the rusted fire escapes. The sharp smell of cordite filled the cramped apartment, mixing with the stale scent of dust, damp plaster, and my own mounting panic.
“Stay down,” Gabriel muttered, his voice a low, gravelly vibration against my ear. His body was warm, trembling with a sudden, lethal adrenaline that had nothing to do with anger anymore and everything to do with survival.
My heart hammered wildly against my ribs, sending a fresh wave of blinding pain through the jagged scar tissue beneath my sweater. I gasped, my fingers digging into the shoulders of his damp charcoal coat. “He’s still out there, Gabriel. Daniel knows we’re alive. If he gets away, we’re both dead—the baby too.”
Gabriel didn’t hesitate. He rolled off me, sweeping the heavy pistol up from the floorboards in one fluid, terrifyingly practiced motion. His dark eyes met mine for a fraction of a second, stripping away the ruthless cartel boss facade to reveal the man I had loved before our world shattered. There was no doubt left in his gaze, only a cold, burning realization.
“Lock the inner deadbolt the second I clear the hall,” Gabriel ordered, his tone flat and absolute. “If anyone else knocks—anyone at all—you don’t open it. Understand?”
“Gabriel, wait—don’t go out there alone. Daniel has men with him,” I warned, pulling myself up against the peeling kitchen wall while clutching my swollen stomach.
“Let them come,” he whispered, a dangerous smile touching the corner of his mouth before he slipped through the broken door frame into the dim, flickering hallway.
The silence that followed was suffocating. I dragged myself across the room, my bare feet crunching on glass, and slammed the heavy iron deadbolt into place. Outside, a muffled scuffle echoed down the stairwell—a dull thud of fists against drywall, a sharp intake of breath, and then the sickening crunch of bone.
Daniel Shaw had fooled them all. For eight months, while I bled in the shadows, Daniel had played the loyal lieutenant, feeding Gabriel forged evidence, orchestrating the warehouse fire, and framing me as Connor Bell’s accomplice. And all the while, he had been building an empire of his own on the ruins of Gabriel’s trust.
Suddenly, a loud bang rattled the hallway door.
My breath caught in my throat. I froze, my hand hovering over the lock. Had Gabriel failed? Had Daniel’s backup overpowered him?
“Elena,” a voice called out through the splintered wood. It was Gabriel, breathing heavily, his voice strained. “Open the door, Elena. It’s over.”
I unlocked the deadbolt and yanked the door open. Gabriel stood alone in the dim hallway, blood smeared across his knuckles and a dark stain soaking through the shoulder of his coat. At his feet, crumpled near the stairs, lay a masked figure unconscious, but it wasn't Daniel.
“He vanished down the fire escape,” Gabriel said, stepping inside and locking the door behind him. He looked at me, his eyes dark with fury and guilt. “Daniel knew the second I dropped that gun in your living room. He’s running. But he won't get far out of Chicago.”
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I sagged against the door frame, the adrenaline finally draining out of my system and leaving a bone-deep exhaustion in its place. “He has the books, Gabriel. He has the offshore accounts, the communication logs with Connor Bell... everything he used to frame me, he used to cover his own tracks.”
Gabriel reached out, his large hand gently touching my cheek, wiping away a streak of soot and rain. His thumb brushed over the faded cut near my eyebrow. “Then we take it all back,” he vowed softly, his voice dropping into a register that promised absolute destruction. “Every last piece of it. But first... we get you out of this hellhole.”
