Chapter 8 - THE TRAP IS SET
By four o'clock in the morning, the Lincoln Town Car had returned to the DeLuca estate under absolute radio silence.
Rachel and Noah were quietly escorted back into the manor through a private underground entrance, bypassing the main security hubs. They were placed in a secure, hidden safe room located beneath the main wine cellar—a fortified bunker equipped with independent air filtration, luxury quarters, and full surveillance monitors.
Standing in the main study above were Gabriel and his three loyal lieutenants: Anthony, Marcus, and Dominic.
Marco Rossi was not in the room. He believed Gabriel was still out in the state forest with fifty armed men, desperately hunting down the "traitorous" physical therapist.
"He thinks he won," Gabriel said, standing in front of a giant digital map of the Boston harbor. His voice was icy cold, his eyes hardened into lethal diamonds. "He thinks Rachel is either dead in those woods or fleeing the state, and he thinks I am completely blinded by rage and grief."
Anthony slammed his pistol onto the table. "Let me put a bullet in his head right now, Gabriel! The old bastard sold out my uncle! He sold out Evelyn!"
"No," Gabriel said sharply, raising his hand. "A bullet in Marco’s head doesn't fix the Moretti threat. Old Man Moretti still controls three rival families and has fifty armed men stationed at the abandoned iron foundry at the North End docks. If we just kill Marco, Moretti will hire someone else and hit us while we're exposed."
Gabriel turned to Marcus Vance. "Marcus, how much liquidity does Marco control through his secondary sign-off keys?"
"Roughly forty million dollars in off-shore accounts," Marcus answered instantly. "If he realizes we know he's the leak, he can drain those accounts and fly to a non-extradition country in less than two hours."
"Then we make sure he doesn't realize it," Gabriel said, a cold, ruthless smile appearing at the corner of his lips.
Gabriel walked over to the desk, pressing the intercom button. "Marco. Step into my study, please."
Thirty seconds later, Marco Rossi walked into the room. He maintained his flawless, aristocratic composure, though subtle flickers of anxiety showed in his eyes when he saw Anthony and Dominic standing around the desk.
"Gabriel," Marco said smoothly, bowing his head. "Did you find the girl in the forest?"
Gabriel sat back in his leather chair, leaning his chin on his steepled fingers. He forced his face into an expression of hollow, devastated defeat.
"She slipped through the perimeter, Marco," Gabriel lied, his voice sounding broken and flat. "She had help waiting on the highway. She's gone."
Marco let out a long, theatrical sigh, his face filled with orchestrated sympathy. "I am deeply sorry, Gabriel. I know how much she meant to you... and to Evelyn. But at least now the snake has been removed from our house."
"You were right, Marco," Gabriel said softly, looking up at his old advisor. "I was blind. I let my heart rule my head, and it almost cost me everything."
Marco stepped closer, resting a comforting gloved hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. "You are young, Gabriel. Your father made similar mistakes in his youth. Now that the leak is gone, we must secure our positions. What are your orders?"
Gabriel looked directly into Marco’s eyes.
"Moretti thinks we are weak right now," Gabriel declared, his tone shifting into sudden, decisive action. "He thinks Dock Three was the kill shot. I want to strike back tonight before he reorganizes."
"Strike back how?" Marco asked, his eyes narrowing slightly with hidden interest.
"We are moving our primary arms and bearer-bond reserve—sixty million dollars in negotiable securities—out of the vault at the Charlestown rail yard," Gabriel revealed, watching Marco’s face like a hawk. "We are moving it tonight at eleven o'clock using an unarmored convoy through the Old Industrial Corridor."
Marco’s heart surely leapt in his chest, though his face remained calm. It was the ultimate prize—the core reserve of the DeLuca syndicate, exposed on an isolated route.
"Is that wise, Gabriel?" Marco asked, playing his part carefully. "An unarmored convoy?"
"Moretti expects us to hide behind steel and bulletproof glass," Gabriel answered smoothly. "He will be looking at our armored trucks. An unarmored cargo van moving through the industrial backstreets will pass completely unnoticed. Anthony and Dominic will lead the escort."
"I see," Marco said slowly, nodding in apparent agreement. "A brilliant, bold strategy, Gabriel. I will personally manage the vault clearance logs from my office."
"Thank you, Marco," Gabriel said, offering his hand. "I don't know what I would do without your counsel."
Marco took Gabriel’s hand, shaking it firmly. "I served your father, Gabriel. I live to serve this family."
Marco turned and walked out of the study, shutting the heavy oak doors behind him.
The moment the door closed, Anthony spat on the floor. "Disgusting snake."
Gabriel wiped his palm on his trousers, a dark, terrifying aura engulfing him completely.
"He's calling Moretti right now," Dominic said, checking his watch. "Moretti will bring every hitman he owns to that industrial corridor to ambush the convoy."
"Good," Gabriel said, walking over to the wall cabinet and pulling out an assault rifle, slapping a full magazine into the receiver with a loud CLACK.
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"Because we aren't sending an unarmored cargo van," Gabriel growled, his dark eyes ablaze with absolute, ruthless lethal intent. "We are sending forty of our best men, heavy armor, and a direct line to every federal agent who wants Old Man Moretti in a body bag."
Gabriel turned to his lieutenants. "Tonight, we end the Moretti syndicate forever."
