Chapter 3 - Into the Shadow Palace
The vehicle waiting at the curb was not a standard luxury sedan. It was a midnight-black, custom-armored SUV with blacked-out bulletproof glass and reinforced steel plating. Two large men in immaculate charcoal suits stood at the doors, their hands crossed over their belts, their eyes scanning the surrounding rooftops with practiced, military discipline.
When Marco opened the rear door, Mikey scrambled inside first, pulling me in right behind him. He didn't sit on the broad leather seat; he climbed into my lap, burying his face in the crook of my neck as if I were the only anchor keeping him grounded in a storm.
We drove in complete silence for nearly forty minutes, leaving the gritty, neon-lit streets of the city center behind and climbing into the misty, forested hills that overlooked the bay.
Eventually, the SUV turned down a private, winding road flanked by stone walls fifteen feet high, topped with wrought-iron spikes and discreet security cameras every fifty yards. A massive set of iron gates parted silently, allowing us to pass into a estate that looked less like a home and more like an ancient, impenetrable fortress.
The DeWitt Manor rose out of the fog—a grand structure of dark granite, slate roofs, and sprawling glass windows that overlooked the dark waters of the bay below.
As the vehicle came to a stop in the sweeping circular driveway, six guards in formal attire instantly took up positions around the car.
Marco opened my door. “We have arrived, Miss Carter.”
My legs felt weak as I stepped out onto the damp cobblestones, holding Mikey tightly in my arms. The morning air was crisp and smelled of pine and ocean salt.
The heavy, double oak doors of the mansion burst open before we even reached the top stair.
A man strode out onto the porch.
He was tall—at least six-foot-three—with broad shoulders that filled out a tailored charcoal dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, his dark sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His hair was dark, sprinkled with silver at the temples, and his face possessed a harsh, striking beauty carved by power and discipline. But it was his eyes that stopped my breath entirely. They were a piercing, stormy grey, shadowed by deep dark circles of pure exhaustion.
Gabriel DeWitt.
The moment his eyes landed on the small boy in my arms, the terrifying, formidable aura surrounding him seemed to shatter into a thousand pieces.
“Michael,” Gabriel gasped, his voice raspy and broken.
He didn't walk down the steps; he practically fell, dropping to his knees on the cold damp stone right in front of us. His large, trembling hands reached out, framing Mikey’s face with a gentle, frantic reverence.
“Daddy,” Mikey whimpered, finally letting go of my neck and throwing his small arms around his father’s neck.
Gabriel pulled his son against his chest so hard his knuckles turned white. He buried his face in the boy’s dark hair, his broad shoulders shaking with silent, deep sobs that he didn't even try to hide. The powerful, feared syndicate ruler who had the entire state trembling was weeping silently on his driveway, clutching his child like a man who had just been pulled from the edge of a cliff.
I stepped back quietly, giving them space, tears prickling at the corners of my own eyes.
After several long minutes, Gabriel slowly rose to his feet, holding Mikey securely against his hip. Mikey kept one small hand wrapped tightly around the lapel of his father’s shirt, but his other hand reached back out toward me, grabbing the sleeve of my denim jacket.
Gabriel turned his stormy grey eyes toward me.
The raw vulnerability that had just painted his face vanished, replaced by an intense, overwhelming gaze that seemed to strip away every layer of my defense in a fraction of a second. He looked at my worn sneakers, my faded jeans, my messy hair tied in a loose clip, and finally met my eyes.
“You’re the woman from the diner,” Gabriel said, his deep baritone sending a subtle vibration straight down my spine.
“Nora Carter,” I managed to say, holding my head up despite the instinct telling me to back away from the sheer weight of his presence. “He was hungry, Mr. DeWitt. I just gave him some food.”
Gabriel took a step closer to me. Up close, he smelled of expensive tobacco, rain, and cedarwood. The heat radiating from his massive frame was almost suffocating.
He reached out his free hand. For a terrifying second, I thought he was going to grab me. Instead, his long, calloused fingers gently touched my wrist, right where Mikey was clutching my jacket, his touch surprisingly soft.
“You fed him,” Gabriel murmured, his dark eyes searching my face with an intensity that made my pulse race. “You protected him. You brought him back to me when every wolf in this city was trying to tear him away.”
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He leaned down slightly, his face inches from mine, his grey eyes burning like hot iron.
“There is no amount of gold in this world that can pay for what you gave me today, Nora Carter,” Gabriel whispered. “Which means as long as I draw breath, this family belongs to you.”
