Chapter 13 - The Trap Closes in the Dark
Vincent backed toward the heavy crimson stage curtains, his hands trembling as he reached into his tuxedo jacket.
“Gabriel... it’s a lie,” Vincent stammered into the silence, his voice cracking with pathetic desperation.
“The doctors told me you were dead!”
“They forged the paperwork to manipulate us both!”
Gabriel took the three steps up to the stage with fluid, terrifying grace.
“You shouldn't have hired Dr. Vale, Vincent,” Gabriel said, stepping onto the raised platform.
“He sings like a canary when you break his fingers.”
Don Camillo turned slowly toward the gathered family heads, his ivory cane planted firmly on the floorboards.
“The Commission does not tolerate betrayal within the bloodline,” Don Camillo declared, his voice cold and final.
“Vincent Moretti, by the unanimous law of the Five Families, your authority is stripped, your assets are seized, and your life is forfeit.”
Vincent’s eyes darted frantically around the ballroom, realizing that every ally he had bribed over the past three months was looking away from him.
The corrupt politicians lowered their heads, the judges stared at the carpet, and the rival capos backed toward the side exits.
When a predator falls, the pack doesn't defend him; they feed on his remains.
“No,” Vincent hissed, his face contorting into an expression of pure, cornered madness.
“I built this city’s future while you dragged us through the gutter with your street wars!”
“If I don't get the crown, nobody leaves this room alive!”
Vincent ripped a small black transmitter from his pocket and slammed the red toggle switch down with his thumb.
Instantly, the crystal chandeliers overhead shattered in a hail of automatic gunfire.
The glass cascaded down onto the ballroom tables like a lethal diamond storm.
Apex Shield mercenaries emerged from the mezzanine balconies, opening fire down into the hall to cover Vincent’s escape.
Screams tore through the darkness as the city’s elite dropped beneath tables and scrambled for the emergency exits.
“Get down!” Gabriel roared, lunging across the stage and pulling me beneath the heavy mahogany podium as wood splinters exploded into the air.
His broad body covered mine completely, shielding my head and neck from the rain of falling glass and ricocheting bullets.
“Are you hit?” Gabriel demanded, his breath hot against my cheek in the smoky dark.
“I’m fine,” I gasped, my hands pressed against his chest, feeling the wild, steady rhythm of his heart.
“Worry about your cousin!”
Vincent was already slipping behind the stage curtains toward the private service elevators that led to the roof.
Luca returned fire from the center aisle, his suppressed weapon barking three-round bursts that picked two snipers off the balcony railing.
The mercenaries fell forty feet, crashing through the banquet tables below.
“Luca, escort Don Camillo and the council out through the kitchen tunnel!” Gabriel shouted through the din of the firefight.
“What about Vincent?” Luca yelled back, reloading behind an overturned marble credenza.
“Vincent is mine,” Gabriel snarled.
He grabbed his Colt .45 from beneath his jacket, checked the chamber with a crisp snap of his wrist, and turned to look at me.
“Stay with Luca, Elena,” he commanded, his eyes filled with fierce, protective desperation.
“This ends on the roof.”
“Like hell I’m staying behind,” I snapped, reaching beneath the podium and pulling a compact 9mm pistol from the fallen Apex guard’s holster.
Gabriel stared at me in the flashes of muzzle fire, momentarily stunned by the weapon in my hands.
“I told you back at the safehouse, Gabriel,” I said, racking the slide with practiced ease.
“I don't leave my patients halfway through an operation.”
“And Vincent is a malignant tumor we haven't finished excising.”
A fierce, appreciative grin cut through the blood and grime on Gabriel’s face.
May you like
“Then stay on my flank, Nurse Vance,” Gabriel said, rising from behind the ruined podium.
“Let’s go take the roof.”
