Chapter 3 - The Shadow Over the Docks
Gabriel lowered his hand slowly, the movement deliberate and non-threatening, though the intensity in his dark eyes did not diminish by a fraction. He leaned back against the leather cushions, studying her with a terrifying depth of focus that made Harper feel utterly transparent.
“Who did that to your face?” he asked quietly, the question cutting straight through the fragile defenses she had spent years building.
“I walked into a kitchen cabinet at home,” Harper lied instantly, her voice dropping into a rehearsed robotic cadence. “It was completely my own clumsiness.”
“People who walk into cabinets bruise their foreheads or the bridges of their noses,” Gabriel noted coldly, his voice devoid of mockery and filled only with dangerous certainty. “They do not suffer deep-tissue contusions spanning the exact shape of an adult male’s knuckles across their left zygomatic arch. Furthermore, they do not flinch from the sound of falling chairs as if dodging incoming shrapnel.”
Harper felt the blood drain entirely from her face, leaving her feeling dizzy and nauseous. “You’re mistaken, Mr. Costa.”
“I am rarely mistaken about violence, Harper,” he replied, taking a slow sip of his water. “It leaves a very distinct signature on people. The question is not whether you are lying to me—because you are—but rather how long you intend to keep pretending that the man living in your house isn’t slowly killing you.”
The mention of Trent sent a wave of genuine terror washing over her. If Trent ever found out that she was speaking to Gabriel Costa—let alone drawing the attention of a prominent downtown figure—the consequences would be catastrophic.
“Please,” Harper whispered, her professional facade finally cracking completely as a single tear broke free and traced a hot path down her painted cheek. “If you say anything, if you look into this, it will only make things infinitely worse for me. You don’t know him.”
“I know men like him,” Gabriel said softly, his jaw tightening until the muscle ticked visibly. “They are cowards who derive their entire sense of power from terrorizing those who cannot fight back. What is his name?”
“I can’t tell you,” she breathed, backing away from the table until her legs hit the service station. “I have to go back to work.”
Gabriel did not stop her as she practically fled toward the kitchen doors, but his silence was far heavier than any command. Across the room, Paul watched Harper’s erratic movements with narrowed, suspicious eyes, muttering under his breath about incompetent staff.
Meanwhile, outside in the damp midnight air, two men sat inside a black sedan idling across the street from the Velvet Room. The driver tapped a glowing cigarette against the open window, his eyes fixed on the entrance of the club.
“She’s still in there,” the driver muttered, blowing a cloud of gray smoke into the humid night. “Trent’s going to lose his mind if she’s even five minutes late getting home.”
“Let him lose his mind,” the passenger replied lazily, checking the cylinder of a heavy automatic pistol resting on his lap. “We just need to make sure she leaves alone. Boss wants her watched, and Boss gets what he wants.”
Inside the club, Gabriel signaled for the bill, tossing several hundred-dollar bills onto the mahogany wood without waiting for change. He rose to his feet, towering over the surrounding patrons, and walked slowly toward the exit. As he passed the bar, he cast a lingering glance toward the kitchen doors where Harper had disappeared.
“Find out everything about her schedule,” Gabriel murmured to his head of security, Marcus, who materialized silently from the shadows near the coat check. “Her address, her background, and specifically who she lives with.”
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“Already on it, Boss,” Marcus replied quietly. “Though I should mention, the docks operation is getting volatile. Your cousin Victor is pushing hard to take over the shipping lanes while you’re distracted by local distractions.”
“Victor can wait,” Gabriel said coldly, pushing open the heavy glass doors into the cool night air. “Take care of Harper’s situation first. Quietly.”
