Chapter 6 - A Father’s First Steps
“How many?” Gabriel asked. His voice was absolute zero. The transformation was terrifying; every trace of grief had been replaced by cold, lethal calculation.
“Three tactical vans breached the lower perimeter five minutes ago,” Marco reported, tapping an earbud. “They jammed the cellular repeaters on the block. They aren’t here to negotiate, Boss. Victor Vale knows he’s dead if he doesn't take the boys as leverage before dawn. They brought heavy ordinance.”
My heart plummeted into my stomach. “The boys,” I gasped, lunging toward the doors. “Gabriel, my babies!”
“Claire, stay with me!” Gabriel commanded, grabbing my wrist with iron fingers. He pulled me into the master suite, where a concealed panic room was hidden behind a bookshelf of hand-bound volumes. He tapped a six-digit code into a concealed keypad. The bookcase swung open silently, revealing a reinforced steel chamber equipped with medical supplies, oxygen tanks, and surveillance monitors.
“Get inside,” he said, pushing me toward the vault.
“No!” I screamed, fighting against his grip. “I am not hiding in a box while my children are down the hall! Get them in here right now!”
Gabriel looked into my eyes, and for a split second, I saw the fierce admiration that had made him fall in love with an art student from Maine six years ago. “Marco, bring the boys. Now!”
Marco didn’t hesitate. He sprinted down the hall.
Seconds later, Marco returned, carrying Julian and Noah in his massive arms. Leo was running behind him, clutching his small shoes in his hands, his eyes wide and terrified. The loud crackle of distant gunfire echoed up through the ventilation shafts from the lower lobby.
“Mommy!” Noah sobbed, throwing his arms around my neck the second Marco set him down.
“I’m here, baby, I’m right here,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around all three of them, pulling them into the depths of the panic room. Julian buried his face in my skirt, his little shoulders shaking with quiet, hysterical sobs.
Leo didn’t cry. He looked up at Gabriel, whose suit was now covered by a tactical vest, a heavy black Glock gripped in his right hand.
“Is it the monsters?” Leo asked, his voice shaking but brave.
Gabriel dropped to one knee before our oldest son. The sheer tenderness in the mob boss’s eyes as he looked at the little boy was heartbreaking. Gabriel reached out, gently smoothing down Leo’s rumpled dark hair.
“Yes, Leo,” Gabriel said quietly. “It’s the monsters.”
“Mommy said monsters can’t come into the castle,” Leo whispered.
“Mommy was right,” Gabriel said, pulling a silver Saint Michael medallion from beneath his shirt—the medallion his own father had given him before he died—and slipping the chain over Leo’s head. “Because I am the king of this castle, Leo. And no monster touches my family and lives to see the sun. You take care of your brothers and your mother. Can you do that for me?”
Leo clutched the heavy silver medallion in his tiny fist and nodded solemnly. “I can do it.”
Gabriel looked at me. His storm-gray eyes were ablaze with a terrifying, beautiful light.
“Lock the door from the inside, Claire,” he whispered, his hand lingering on my face for one final, searing second. “Do not open it for anyone except my voice. Not Marco. Not the police. Only me.”
“Gabriel, don’t die,” I gasped, catching his hand, pressing it against my cheek. “Please. They just found you.”
A devastating smile crossed his lips. “I survived five years without a soul, Claire. Now that I have my soul back, an army couldn't kill me.”
He stepped backward out of the vault. Marco slammed the heavy reinforced steel door shut. The pneumatic locks hissed, sealing us into silence.
Inside the vault, the only sound was the muffled crying of Noah and Julian, and the rhythmic ticking of the air filtration system.
I pulled all three boys onto a cot in the corner of the room, wrapping a heavy wool blanket around them. I pulled up the surveillance feeds on the wall monitor.
The security cameras on the fiftieth floor showed chaos. Glass shattered across the polished marble corridors. Men in black balaclavas, wielding automatic rifles, moved in tactical formation down the hallway.
Then, Gabriel appeared on the screen.
He didn’t take cover. He moved through the shadows with the terrifying grace of an apex predator on his home turf. Gunfire flared in the dim corridors, strobes of yellow and white illuminating the slaughter. Gabriel fired with surgical precision. Every shot was lethal, calculated, and devoid of mercy. Behind him, Marco and a cadre of Cross family soldiers advanced, systematically cutting down the assault team.
Julian was trembling against my ribs. “Mommy, where is the man with our eyes?”
“He’s fighting for us, baby,” I choked out, tears blurring my view of the screen. “He’s bringing us home.”
Suddenly, the screen showing the 60th-floor elevator vestibule flashed.
The private elevator doors pinged open. Victor Vale—Serena’s father—stepped into the penthouse corridor. He was flanked by three heavily armed mercenaries. In his hand, he held a detonator.
My blood turned to ice.
Victor Vale wasn’t here to capture the boys. He knew his family was ruined. He had brought a thermite charge to level the entire penthouse floor.
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And Gabriel was still clearing the floor below.
***
