Chapter 1 - The Blood on the Marble
My hand didn’t shake as I pulled the nylon thread tight through Gabriel’s skin.
The blood was thick, warm, and smelled metallic, mixing with the sharp tang of isopropyl alcohol and the rain blowing through the half-open front door. Outside, lightning flashed across the bay, illuminating the grand foyer of the Costa estate in jagged strokes of violet light.
Gabriel sat motionless on the bottom marble step. Sweat glinted on his collarbone and forehead, but he didn't make a sound. His gray eyes remained fixed on my face, searching every movement of my expression with terrifying precision.
“Why didn’t you run, Nora?” he asked again, his voice lower this time, gravelly from pain.
I tied off the second knot, cutting the thread with surgical scissors from the black kit.
“Where would I go?” I replied, without looking up. “Outside it’s storming. I have no money, no coat, and no ID because Diane locked them in her wall safe. If I walked out that gate, your guards would shoot me, or Diane would find me and sell me to someone who doesn't hand out clean towels.”
Leo, standing by the doorway with a suppressed pistol drawn, let out a rough breath. “She’s practical, boss. I’ll give her that.”
“Shut up, Leo,” Gabriel growled softly, though his gaze never left mine. “She isn't just practical. She's calculate.”
“I’m surviving,” I corrected him, pressing a thick gauge pad over the fresh stitches and securing it with medical tape. “There’s a difference. Hold this.”
I took his hand and placed it firmly over the dressing. His fingers were cold, but the muscle beneath his skin was dense as iron. When my skin touched his, a strange spark went through me—not fear, but a sudden, intense awareness that this man, despite the violent world he ruled, was the only person standing between me and complete destruction.
Gabriel applied pressure to his side, letting out a short, controlled exhale. “You’ve done this before.”
“My father had diabetes and bad kidneys toward the end,” I said, packing the bloodied gauze back into the plastic biohazard bag. “The ambulance fees were eight hundred dollars a trip. I learned to handle needles, dressings, and IVs so he wouldn't die in debt before he died of liver failure.”
Gabriel watched me clean the marble floor with bleach wipes, wiping away every trace of his blood until the floor shone like glass again.
“You’re clean,” he murmured, leaning his head back against the carved wooden banister.
“If the police come here for any reason, blood in the foyer is hard to explain,” I said, tossing the gloves into the bag. “And if your enemies sent a assassin to knife you, they’ll have someone watching the house for a doctor’s car.”
Leo looked at Gabriel, his jaw dropping slightly. “She’s right, boss. Dr. Mercer’s car would be flagged immediately if someone inside the family leaked your location.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. The physical pain seemed to vanish, replaced by a cold, lethal clarity.
“The leak didn't come from the family,” Gabriel said slowly. “It came from the Golden Room. Someone tipped off the Marcone crew that I was meeting with the harbor commissioner tonight.”
“Who knew about the harbor meeting?” I asked, standing up and crossing my arms over my chest.
Gabriel looked up at me from the stairs. “Me. Leo. And the person who manages the ledger accounts for the casino’s VIP floor.”
I froze. My mind raced back to the night I was dumped in the alley. The manila envelope with the casino markers. Diane’s greasy, triumphant smile as she grabbed it from the puddle.
“Diane,” I whispered.
Gabriel’s mouth curved into a dark, ruthless smile that sent a chill down my spine. “Your stepmother owes three hundred thousand to the Marcones. She didn't pay her debt with you, Nora. She gave them you as a token of goodwill—and offered to keep her eyes open at the Golden Room in exchange for wiping her interest payments.”
My blood ran cold. “She sold me... just to clear her interest?”
“She thought I would kill you or lock you away in a basement,” Gabriel said smoothly, standing up slowly, holding his side as he tested his weight. “She figured if you disappeared, no one would ask where the money from your father’s life insurance policy went.”
“My father’s policy?” My voice trembled slightly. “That policy was burned in the house fire three months ago!”
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Gabriel stepped toward me, stopping only inches away. The scent of rain, cedarwood, and copper hung heavily around him.
“House fires don't destroy bank routing numbers, Nora,” Gabriel whispered. “Your stepmother claimed the seven hundred thousand dollar payout two weeks before she dropped you in that alley.”
