Chapter 4 - The Man Who Owed Her Everything
The traitor's name was Vincent Cole.
He had worked for Gabriel for eleven years.
He knew the mansion.
The security codes.
The convoy routes.
And now Gabriel knew Vincent had given Luca Salvatore Harper's address.
Harper sat across from Gabriel in the study.
“What happens to him?”
Gabriel didn't answer.
That was an answer.
“No.”
His eyes lifted.
“No what?”
“You don't kill him.”
“Harper.”
“You asked what you could do to repay me.”
Gabriel became still.
“This.”
She leaned forward.
“Don't kill him.”
“You don't understand what he did.”
“He tried to get me killed. I understand enough.”
“Then why protect him?”
“I'm not protecting him. I'm protecting you.”
Gabriel frowned.
Harper pointed at his chest.
“The man in that alley looked surprised when somebody helped him. Maybe there's a reason.”
Her words landed harder than she intended.
Gabriel looked away.
“You think sparing Vincent changes what I am?”
“No.”
“Then what does it change?”
“What you do next.”
Silence filled the room.
Finally Gabriel stood.
He walked to the window.
For years, men had begged him for mercy.
Gabriel had learned not to listen.
Then Harper Lane asked for mercy for the man who tried to have her killed.
That was different.
“Exile,” Gabriel said.
Harper blinked.
“What?”
“He leaves Belladonna Harbor tonight. Everything he owns here becomes mine. If he returns, your request no longer protects him.”
Harper nodded slowly.
“Deal.”
Gabriel looked almost amused.
“You bargain with Mafia bosses often?”
“Only on Tuesdays.”
It was Wednesday.
He smiled anyway.
That evening, Harper finally learned why Gabriel's men followed him.
It wasn't only fear.
He paid hospital bills for their families.
He funded schools in neighborhoods politicians had forgotten.
He had also broken bones, destroyed businesses and ordered violence.
Nothing about him was simple.
That frightened Harper more than if he had been purely evil.
Pure evil was easy to reject.
Gabriel wasn't.
He was a man standing at the edge of something, unsure which direction to move.
And somehow Harper had become the person standing beside him.
Later that night, Gabriel found her on the terrace.
“You're freezing.”
“So are you.”
He removed his coat.
She refused it.
He placed it around her shoulders anyway.
“You're irritating.”
“I've been told.”
“Probably by everyone.”
“Mostly people who are dead.”
Harper stared.
Gabriel waited.
Then she realized he was joking.
“You cannot joke like that.”
His laugh was quiet.
It was the first time she'd heard it.
For several minutes they watched the harbor lights.
Then Harper asked, “Why were you in that alley?”
Gabriel's expression changed.
“Meeting someone.”
“Vincent?”
“No.”
“Luca?”
Gabriel shook his head.
“My younger brother.”
Harper turned.
“You have a brother?”
“Had.”
The word hung between them.
“Adrian tried to leave the family twelve years ago. My father called him a coward.”
“What did you call him?”
Gabriel looked toward the water.
“The same thing.”
Harper waited.
“He died six months later.”
“How?”
“Car bomb.”
Her face softened.
“Gabriel…”
“I spent twelve years believing Luca ordered it.”
“And now?”
“Before the ambush, I received evidence that someone else did.”
“Who?”
Gabriel looked at her.
“My father.”
Harper's breath caught.
“Why?”
“To teach me what happens when a Vescari tries to leave.”
The harbor seemed suddenly colder.
“Your father killed his own son?”
“Yes.”
“And you stayed?”
“I didn't know.”
Harper understood then.
Gabriel's war wasn't merely against Luca Salvatore.
It was against the life he'd inherited.
“Is your father alive?”
“No.”
“Then who sent the evidence?”
“I don't know.”
A guard stepped onto the terrace.
“Boss.”
Gabriel turned.
“We found something in Vincent's phone.”
“What?”
“A message sent two hours before the alley ambush.”
The guard handed him the device.
Gabriel read.
His face drained.
Harper had never seen fear in him before.
Not when he was bleeding.
Not when bullets hit the convoy.
Now she did.
“What does it say?”
Gabriel handed her the phone.
The message contained only six words.
THE GIRL MUST NEVER REACH GABRIEL.
Harper looked up.
“What girl?”
Gabriel stared toward the dark harbor.
“I don't know.”
Then another message arrived.
A photograph.
A teenage girl tied to a chair.
And beneath it:
ASK HARPER WHAT HER MOTHER HID.
Harper stopped breathing.
May you like
Because the girl in the photograph wore a necklace Harper recognized.
It had belonged to her mother.
