Chapter 4 - The War in Newark
The rain came down in sheets over the Newark industrial district, turning the asphalt into black, reflective mirrors.
A convoy of four black armored SUVs tore through the quiet dockyard, their engines roaring like unleashed beasts. Inside the lead vehicle, Gabriel sat in the back, checking the magazine of his custom Sig Sauer 9mm pistol. He wore a heavy black tactical coat over his suit.
To his right sat Cole, holding an automatic rifle.
"We have twelve men inside the warehouse," Cole reported, reviewing a thermal imaging map on a tablet. "Thermal scans show three armed guards on the perimeter, two near the central office, and one high-value heat signature tied to a chair in the basement level."
"Natalie," Gabriel growled.
"Victor’s son, Julian, is on site," Cole added. "Victor himself is currently in Miami, but Julian is handling the local operation. Gabriel, if we strike this facility, it means open war within the family. The syndicate council will demand a sit-down."
"There will be no sit-down," Gabriel said, sliding the magazine into his pistol with a sharp, metallic clack. "My uncle lied to me for twelve years. He stole my life, he hunted my woman, and he tried to freeze my newborn son to death in a contractor bag. The council can collect their bodies tomorrow morning."
The convoy didn't stop at the warehouse gates.
The lead SUV accelerated, smashing through the chain-link barrier with a deafening crash of twisted steel and shattering glass. Before the echoes of the impact had died away, Gabriel’s tactical team poured out of the vehicles like shadows.
Suppressed gunshots snapped through the rain.
Within ninety seconds, the three perimeter guards were neutralized on the wet concrete floor. Gabriel marched through the heavy iron doors of the main bay, his gun drawn, his face a mask of absolute, merciless focus.
Two guards rushed down the metal staircase from the upper office. Gabriel fired three swift shots without slowing his pace. The men collapsed over the railing, their weapons clattering down to the lower deck.
Gabriel kicked open the heavy steel door leading to the basement stairs.
The air below was damp, smelling of mold, rust, and copper.
At the end of a narrow concrete hallway, behind a reinforced security door, a woman’s muffled scream echoed off the walls.
Gabriel stepped up to the door, kicked the lock mechanism with a heavy tactical boot, and blew the hinges off with two close-range shotgun blasts fired by Cole.
The door burst inward.
Inside the dimly lit concrete room, Natalie Hart was tied to a wooden chair. Her face was bruised, her hair wild and damp, her clothes torn at the shoulder. Standing behind her, holding a silver revolver against her temple, was Julian Moretti—Gabriel’s thirty-year-old cousin.
Julian was trembling, his face flushed with sweat and panic.
"Stay back, Gabriel!" Julian screamed, tightening his grip on the gun. "I swear to God I’ll pull the trigger! Step back!"
Natalie looked up through her swollen eyes. When she saw Gabriel standing in the doorway, bleeding from a minor glass cut on his cheek, his gun leveled directly at Julian, a sob broke from her chest.
"Gabriel..." she gasped, her voice hoarse. "The baby... did you find Daniel? Is he—"
"He’s safe, Natalie," Gabriel said, his voice instantly softening as he met her eyes. "He’s warm. He’s home. Sophie found him."
Natalie let out a long, shuddering sigh, her shoulders slumping as tears streamed down her bruised cheeks. "Thank God... oh, thank God..."
"Shut up!" Julian yelled, pressing the barrel harder into Natalie’s skin. "You weren't supposed to get that kid to the house, you bitch! You were supposed to hand him over in Manhattan!"
Gabriel took one slow, deliberate step into the room. His gun never wavered from Julian’s forehead.
"You knew, didn't you, Julian?" Gabriel asked quietly. "You and your father."
"My father found out she was pregnant six months ago!" Julian spat, his eyes wild with fear. "She went to an OB-GYN in upstate New York using a fake name, but the doctor was on our payroll! When my dad saw the genetic timeline, he realized what it meant! If that kid was born, you’d have an heir! All of our plans... thirty years of building power in the family... gone!"
"So you tracked her down," Gabriel said, taking another step.
"We kept her hidden in a cabin in Vermont!" Julian yelled. "When she went into labor last week, we took the baby immediately. My father gave the order to dispose of the child quietly so you’d never know. But she managed to grab the kid, get a photo from her purse, and bribe one of our drivers to drop the baby near your fence line before we caught her!"
Natalie looked at Gabriel, tears shining in the dim light. "I couldn't get through the gates, Gabriel... they were chasing my driver... I told him to drop Daniel where someone from the house would find him... I prayed you’d see the photo..."
"I saw it," Gabriel whispered.
He turned his full, terrifying gaze back onto his cousin.
"You tried to murder my son, Julian."
"Gabriel, please!" Julian’s voice cracked into a terrified whine as he realized his leverage was failing. "We’re blood! We’re family! My father forced me to do this! He said—"
Gabriel didn't let him finish the sentence.
He stepped forward, grabbed Julian’s gun arm with lightning speed, twisted the weapon upward, and drove a powerful side kick directly into Julian’s knee. The bone snapped with a sickening crack.
Julian shrieked in pain, dropping the revolver as he collapsed onto the concrete floor.
Gabriel caught the falling revolver in mid-air, checked the cylinder, and handed it to Cole. Then, without a second’s hesitation, he drew his own Sig Sauer and pressed the cold barrel directly between Julian’s eyes.
"Gabriel, no!" Natalie cried out from the chair. "Don't do it in front of me! Please!"
Gabriel froze.
For twelve years, he had operated strictly under the brutal laws of the underworld—blood for blood, life for life. But as he looked at Natalie, and as he remembered the tiny, warm bundle resting in the bassinet back at his estate, something inside him shifted.
He was no longer just a crime boss. He was a father. And his son would not grow up in the shadow of an unnecessary execution if Gabriel could help it.
Gabriel lowered the gun.
"Cole," Gabriel said coldly.
"Boss?"
"Break his other leg. Put him in the back of the truck. We’re taking him to the family council tomorrow morning. And send a team to Miami to pick up my uncle Victor."
Gabriel re-holstered his weapon, pulled out a tactical blade, and quickly cut the ropes binding Natalie’s wrists and ankles.
As soon as her hands were free, Natalie threw her arms around Gabriel’s neck, weeping uncontrollably against his chest. Gabriel wrapped his arms tightly around her, burying his face in her dark hair, feeling her heartbeat steadying against his own.
"I’m sorry, Natalie," Gabriel whispered into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. "I am so sorry I left you."
May you like
"You came for me," she sobbed, holding onto his coat as if she might fall if she let go. "You came for our boy."
"I will never leave either of you again," Gabriel swore, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. "I promise you."
