Chapter 4 - ASHES AND BLOOD
The war began before dawn. From the subterranean safety of the bunker, I watched Gabriel coordinate a massacre through heavily encrypted burner phones. He didn't just target Daniel Shaw; he targeted the infrastructure of the betrayal. He rooted out every captain, every soldier, and every dirty politician who had aligned with his traitorous lieutenant.
By noon, three of Daniel’s warehouses were reduced to smoking craters. By sunset, Connor Bell’s top enforcers were found hanging from the rafters of an abandoned shipyard. Gabriel was sending a message: The King is not blind, and the King is not forgiving.
But Daniel was cunning. He had anticipated Gabriel's wrath and entrenched himself deep in the north side, surrounding himself with heavily armed mercenaries. Worse, Daniel began leaking information to the FBI, framing Gabriel’s loyalists to force the feds to do his dirty work. The syndicate was bleeding out, caught between a federal crackdown and a civil war.
That evening, Gabriel returned to the bunker, his charcoal coat stained with dark, rust-colored patches. He washed the blood from his hands in the steel sink, his movements mechanical, exhausted. I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his broad back. He stiffened, then leaned back into my touch, letting out a ragged sigh.
"He's barricaded in a high-rise," Gabriel muttered. "He's using civilians as human shields in the lower levels, making it impossible to breach without massive casualties. He knows I won't slaughter innocents. He’s stalling for time so he can slip out of the country."
"Then you draw him out," I said quietly, surprising myself with the icy calculation in my own voice. The mafia violence I had once abhorred now felt like a necessary tool for survival. "He wants the throne, Gabriel. He wants to prove you are weak. You can't just attack his fortress; you have to threaten his ego."
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Gabriel turned, his bloody hands resting on my shoulders, his eyes searching my face. "You want me to bait him."
"Yes," I replied, meeting his gaze evenly. "Offer a parley. A surrender. Make him believe the federal pressure is breaking you. Make him come to you to gloat."
