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The three men moved with an unsettling stillness that silenced the chaotic energy of the tavern instantly. Regulars who had been laughing a second prior suddenly found the condensation on their beer bottles intensely fascinating. / Chapter 3 / 8

Chapter 3 - Into the Lion’s Den

The alleyway was freezing, rain slicking the pavement and turning the neon signs overhead into blurred streaks of crimson and neon blue. Maeve stumbled over a discarded crate, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but Gabriel’s iron grip kept her upright and moving forward.

They burst through a wooden gate into a private, high-walled courtyard where a sleek, matte-black bulletproof SUV idled with its doors wide open.

"Get in," Gabriel ordered, shoving her gently into the leather-lined interior before sliding in beside her. The doors slammed shut, and the vehicle peeled out of the alley with a screech of tires just as police sirens wailed into the street behind them.

Maeve was shaking violently, clutching her bruised wrist. Adrenaline crashed, leaving her dizzy, furious, and terrified.

"Are you out of your mind?!" she screamed, turning on Gabriel in the dim light of the moving cabin. "I had a normal life! A crappy, broke life, sure, but safe! Now I'm fleeing the cops with a literal mob boss because I gave your senile grandfather five dollars worth of groceries?!"

Gabriel sat calmly, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves to reveal muscular forearms etched with faint, old scars. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't flinch.

"Safe?" Gabriel repeated quietly. "There is no safety for anyone connected to me, Maeve. And now that Captain Miller saw you with me, his men will hunt you down just to use you as leverage against my empire."

Maeve felt the floor drop out from under her stomach. "You... you put a target on my back."

"I protected you from being shot to pieces in that bar," Gabriel countered sharply, his voice dropping an octave, carrying an undeniable weight of absolute power. "And I am offering you sanctuary. Look out the window."

Maeve reluctantly turned her gaze to the glass. The SUV was passing through massive wrought-iron gates flanked by armed guards in tactical gear, entering a sprawling, cliffside estate overlooking the turbulent, dark ocean. It was a fortress of glass, steel, and stone—an opulent compound hidden from the rest of the world.

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My hand froze inches from the cold steel of the Sig Sauer P226. Beneath the amber glow of the bedside lamp, the source of the warmth against my side wasn't an assassin, an operative from a rival syndicate, or a traitorous lieutenant.

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"Where are we?" she whispered.

"My home," Gabriel replied as the car came to a smooth halt. "And until I root out the traitor inside my organization who tipped off Captain Miller, you are staying right here under my personal protection."

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