Chapter 5 - Whispers in the Shadows and the Traitor’s Price
The ride back to the estate in the armored Maybach was completely silent.
Snow slammed against the reinforced tinted windows in violent gusts.
Sarah sat in the plush leather seat, the adrenaline from the ballroom finally crashing out of her system.
Her ribs throbbed with a dull, sickening ache.
She leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes, trying to control her shallow breathing.
A heavy, warm weight settled over her shoulders.
She opened her eyes to find Gabriel’s tuxedo jacket draped over her frame.
It smelled intensely of bergamot, expensive tobacco, and him.
“You surprised me tonight,” Gabriel said, staring straight ahead at the dark highway.
“I didn’t think you had that kind of venom in you.”
“I wasn’t being venomous,” Sarah murmured, pulling the jacket closer around her cold arms.
“I was telling the truth. I hated watching Leo cry. I hated seeing them try to hurt him.”
Gabriel turned his head, his slate eyes studying the sharp profile of her face in the passing streetlights.
“You defended our family’s honor better than most of my captains,” he said.
“Carmine was humiliated.”
“Humiliated men become reckless,” she pointed out softly.
“Good,” Gabriel replied coldly.
“Reckless men make mistakes. And when Carmine makes his next mistake, I will take his territory, his docks, and his life.”
The Maybach pulled through the heavy iron gates of the upstate compound.
Floodlights swept over the snowbanks.
Dozens of armed guards patrolled the perimeter with Belgian Malinois attack dogs.
The estate had become an impenetrable fortress.
When the car stopped under the portico, Gabriel didn’t wait for the driver.
He stepped out, walked around to Sarah’s side, opened the door, and offered his hand.
Sarah tried to step down, but a sharp stab in her lower back caused her knee to buckle.
Before she could hit the ground, Gabriel caught her.
Effortlessly, he scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as if she weighed nothing at all.
“I can walk,” Sarah gasped, her cheeks flaming hot.
“Guards are watching!”
“Let them watch,” Gabriel growled, carrying her up the sweeping marble staircase toward the front entrance.
“They know who you are.”
He carried her through the foyer, past the silent, respectful bows of the staff who had once been her peers, and straight up to the master suite.
He kicked the door open and gently set her down on the edge of the massive four-poster bed.
He knelt before her, unbuckling her high-heeled shoes and tossing them aside.
His large hands gently massaged her cold, swollen feet.
Sarah froze.
The most feared mafia boss on the East Coast was kneeling at her feet like a servant.
“Gabriel… you don’t have to do this,” she said, her voice shaking.
Gabriel paused.
He looked up, his rough fingers resting against her slender ankle.
“In that ballroom, you stood between me and a dozen men who want me dead,” he said quietly.
“You bled for my son. You carry the scars of my enemies.”
He stood up, towering over her, his expression unreadable yet burning with an intensity that stole the oxygen from her lungs.
“There is nothing in this world I won't do to keep you safe, Sarah.”
Before she could reply, his encrypted phone buzzed violently on the bedside table.
Gabriel answered it, his tone instantly reverting to ice.
“Speak.”
A brief pause.
“Where?” Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
“Bring him to the cellar. Do not kill him yet. I want to see his eyes when he realizes what he’s done.”
He hung up and looked at Sarah.
“We found the second rat,” Gabriel said.
“The one who supplied the blueprints of the west wing.”
“Who was it?” Sarah asked, a chill running down her spine.
“Enzo,” Gabriel replied.
“My head of logistics. A man I broke bread with for ten years.”
Gabriel turned toward the door, pulling a customized semi-automatic pistol from his shoulder holster and checking the chamber with a crisp, practiced snap.
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“Get some sleep, wife,” he said quietly.
“I have work to do.”
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