Chapter 2 - THE VEILED THREAT

The enforcers disarmed Dean in seconds, slamming him against the wall. Madeline screamed as two men grabbed her arms, dragging her away from Gabriel.

“Gabriel, please! He made me do it!” Madeline sobbed, her aristocratic poise completely shattered.

Gabriel ignored her. He walked up to Dean. The man who had been his brother-in-arms for fifteen years.

“Why?” Gabriel demanded.

Dean laughed bitterly, blood dripping from his mouth where a guard had struck him. “Because you went soft, Gabriel. After Rebecca, you stopped pushing the business. You hid in this house. You obsessed over that sick kid. We were losing territory. I had to take over.”

The mention of Rebecca made Gabriel pause. The pieces suddenly clicked together in his mind. The minor medical procedure. The sudden, unexplained complications.

“Rebecca,” Gabriel whispered, his hands curling into fists. “The doctor who performed her procedure... you recommended him.”

Dean grinned, a feral, cornered look in his eyes. “She was going to convince you to go legitimate. She wanted you out of the life. I couldn't let her do that.”

The silence that followed was absolute.

Gabriel had spent three years mourning his wife, believing her death was a tragic twist of fate. And all along, the architect of his nightmare had been sitting at his dining table, drinking his wine, plotting to take the rest of his family.

Gabriel didn't yell. He didn't explode.

He simply nodded.

“Take them to the warehouse by the river,” Gabriel instructed his men. His voice was completely devoid of emotion. “Do not make it quick.”

“Gabriel, wait! No!” Dean yelled as he was dragged out the door. Madeline’s hysterical screams echoed down the hallway until the heavy oak doors slammed shut.

The house plunged into silence.

Gabriel stood in the center of the ruined servant's quarters. The mafia boss, the ruthless leader, suddenly looked incredibly weary.

He turned around and looked at Claire. She was still on the floor, holding Lucy. Both of them were trembling.

Gabriel knelt on the floor, ignoring the expensive fabric of his suit. He reached out, his large, scarred hands gently resting on Claire’s shoulders.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice softer than Claire had ever heard it.

“No,” Claire whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Lucy is just scared.”

Gabriel looked at the little three-year-old girl. Lucy peeked out from her mother’s chest. She looked at Gabriel, then reached out a tiny hand and patted his arm.

“Bad men gone?” Lucy asked.