Chapter 5 - The Gala of Wolves
The Grand Ballroom of the Drake Hotel was a sea of glittering crystal chandeliers, black-tie tuxedos, and silk evening gowns.
Chicago's high society floated across the polished dance floor, sipping hundred-dollar champagne and laughing over string quartet music, completely oblivious to the fact that two-thirds of the wealth in the room was tied to shadows.
When the massive double doors opened at 9:00 PM, the hum of conversation died down instantly.
Gabriel Kane walked into the ballroom. He looked devastatingly handsome in a bespoke black tuxedo that fit his broad shoulders like armor, his dark hair slicked back impeccably.
But it wasn't Gabriel that made the crowd catch their breath.
It was the woman on his arm.
Gabriel’s private stylists had spent three hours preparing me at the manor. I was wearing a floor-length emerald green silk gown that hugged my curves perfectly, with a low-cut back and a subtle side slit. My brown hair was styled in elegant, soft waves over one shoulder, and around my neck hung a stunning vintage diamond necklace from the Kane family vault.
The quiet accountant in cardigans was gone. In her place stood a woman who looked like she commanded empires.
"Keep your shoulders back, Claire," Gabriel whispered beside me, his hand resting securely on the small of my back, his palm burning through the thin silk of my dress. "Let them look. You own this room."
"I feel like a lamb walking into a den of wolves," I murmured under my breath, smiling politely for a passing photographer.
"You are not a lamb," Gabriel replied softly, his fingers tightening possessively against my waist. "You are with the alpha. Nobody touches you tonight."
Across the ballroom, standing near a towering champagne fountain, was Marcus Harrison.
Harrison was a silver-haired man in his late fifties, wearing an immaculate tuxedo and a warm, practiced politician's smile. But as his eyes locked onto Gabriel—and then onto me—the color drained from his face so fast he nearly dropped his glass.
He had expected Gabriel to be grieving, shattered, or hiding in his estate. He certainly hadn't expected the quiet accountant who had stolen his delivery truck to be standing beside Chicago’s most dangerous man in a ten-thousand-dollar emerald gown.
"Stay close to Mason," Gabriel instructed softly as we approached the center of the room. "I’m going to greet our host."
"Gabriel, be careful," I whispered, reaching out to touch his sleeve.
Gabriel looked down at my hand on his arm, his eyes softening for a brief second before hardening back into steel. "Watch the show, Claire."
Gabriel strode across the polished floor toward Harrison. The crowd parted around him like the Red Sea.
"Marcus," Gabriel said smoothly, stepping into Harrison’s personal space. His voice carried clearly over the string quartet music, drawing the attention of nearby senators and corporate titans. "Splendid event."
Harrison swallowed hard, forcing a tight smile onto his pale lips. "Gabriel! I... I didn't think you would make it tonight. Given... recent rumors regarding your family's safety."
"Rumors are cheap, Marcus," Gabriel said, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray. "Fact is much more reliable. For instance, it is a fact that my nephew Eli is asleep in his crib at my estate, perfectly safe."
Harrison’s jaw twitched violently. "Is that so? I'm... delighted to hear that."
"I knew you would be," Gabriel smiled—a smile that looked like a razor blade drawn across throat skin. "And another interesting fact came to my attention this morning. An offshore account in Grand Cayman under Apex Logistics cleared eighty million dollars yesterday. Traced straight back to Harrison Holdings."
The surrounding guests froze. Several high-ranking city officials lowered their glasses, staring at Harrison in shock.
Harrison’s eyes darted wildly toward the exits. "Gabriel, I don't know what you're talking about—"
"You tried to buy my port terminals with stolen money, Marcus," Gabriel said, stepping closer until he towered over the older man, his voice dropping into a lethal, quiet register that made Harrison’s knees shake. "You hired Moretti to kidnap my brother's son. And you thought a woman like Claire Bennett wouldn't notice your ledger entries."
Gabriel raised his glass in a quiet toast.
"Federal agents are currently seizing your offices on Michigan Avenue," Gabriel added smoothly. "And two state troopers are standing outside those glass doors waiting to escort you to a federal holding cell."
Right on cue, the heavy doors opened, and four uniformed officers walked briskly across the ballroom toward Harrison.
Panic snapped in Harrison’s mind. He reached into his tuxedo jacket—not for a handkerchief, but for a small silver revolver he had smuggled past hotel security!
"GABRIEL!" I screamed from across the room!
Before Harrison could raise the barrel, Gabriel acted with terrifying speed. He grabbed Harrison’s wrist, twisted it back with a sickening CRACK, and slammed the billionaire face-first onto a banquet table, shattering dozens of crystal glasses into sparkling shards!
The revolver clattered onto the carpet. Women screamed, guests scrambled back, and within seconds, the state troopers tackled Harrison to the floor, pinning his arms behind his back as he wept in pain and humiliation.
Gabriel stepped back, adjusting his silk cuffs as if he had merely brushed dust off his lapel.
He turned toward me.
May you like
Through the chaos, the screaming guests, and the flashing security lights, Gabriel walked straight to where I stood. He reached out, took my hand, and lifted it to his lips, kissing my knuckles gently.
"Shall we go home, Claire?" he asked softly. "Eli gets cranky if we miss his bedtime story."
