Chapter 13 - The Wrath of Gabriel Vale: Tearing Chicago Apart
When Gabriel arrived at the Lincoln Park clinic twenty minutes later, the entire block was cordoned off with black tactical vehicles.
Marcus was sitting on the back of an ambulance, clutching his bruised chest where three heavy rounds had dented his armor.
When Gabriel stepped out of his vehicle, his face was a mask of absolute, apocalyptic fury. The air around him seemed to crackle with lethal menace.
“Report,” Gabriel said, his voice terrifyingly quiet.
“They used an industrial smoke diversion from the alley,” Marcus wheezed, his head bowed in bitter shame. “It wasn't Moretti’s regular crew. It was a hired extraction mercenary team. Richard Mercer was with them. They bypassed the security codes because Richard still had the legacy medical clearance keys from his old company insurance.”
Gabriel’s dark eyes narrowed into cold, black voids.
“Where is she?”
Marcus handed Gabriel a burner phone that had been left on the floor of the exam room.
The phone rang instantly.
Gabriel answered, putting it to his ear without saying a word.
“Vale,” Dante Moretti’s smooth, mocking voice purred through the speaker. “You took my shipments. You took my money. You took my empire.”
“Where is she, Dante?” Gabriel asked, his voice steady as a tombstone.
“I am at the old grain silo terminal on Calumet River,” Moretti replied. “I have Miss Mercer. And her father is currently explaining to her what happens to ungrateful daughters.”
In the background, Gabriel heard the muffled sound of a slap, followed by Claire’s defiant cry: “Don't give him anything, Gabriel! Don't come!”
The sound of Claire’s voice tore through Gabriel’s soul like a jagged blade.
“Listen to me very carefully, Moretti,” Gabriel said, his voice dropping into a register of cold, absolute promise. “If you put a single scratch on her skin, I will not just kill you. I will burn your entire bloodline out of the history of this city. There is nowhere on this earth you can hide from me.”
“You have thirty minutes, Vale,” Moretti laughed darkly. “Come alone with the master decryption keys to the Cayman accounts, or I will drop her into the Calumet River with fifty pounds of concrete tied to her ankles.”
The call ended.
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Gabriel turned to Marcus and the thirty elite operators standing behind him.
“Prep the heavy tactical gear,” Gabriel ordered, his eyes blazing with merciless intent. “We are not negotiating. We are going to war.”
