Chapter 5
The air in the penthouse was thick with tension,
the city skyline glowing coldly through the massive windows.
Gabriel paced the length of the room,
a tactical radio buzzing quietly on his hip.
"They issued a bounty,"
he said,
stopping to look at me.
"The syndicate,"
he elaborated,
"they lost millions when we seized Ethan's accounts,
and they are holding you responsible."
I poured myself a glass of sparkling water,
my hand perfectly steady.
"How much,"
I asked casually,
taking a small sip.
"Five million,"
Gabriel answered,
"enough to bring out the worst kind of professionals."
I set the glass down on the marble counter,
the clinking sound sharp in the quiet room.
"Elena is secure,"
I confirmed,
knowing my daughter was in the underground safe room with our best guards.
"She is,"
Gabriel agreed,
"but you are exposed out here."
"That is the point,"
I told him,
walking toward the panoramic window.
"If we hide,
they will hunt us forever,"
I explained,
"we need to draw them out and crush them publicly."
Gabriel sighed,
rubbing the back of his neck.
"It is a dangerous game, Mara,"
he warned,
"these aren't corporate lawyers,
they are killers."
"So are we,"
I reminded him gently,
"when the situation demands it."
That night,
the first attempt was made.
I was sitting in my private study,
reading a book by the light of a single lamp.
The glass of the balcony door shattered inward,
a suppressed gunshot echoing with a dull thud.
The bullet buried itself in the leather chair,
exactly where my head had been seconds before.
I had dropped to the floor the moment I saw the laser reflection on the glass.
Instantly,
the estate's alarms screamed,
bathing the grounds in blinding red light.
I stayed low,
crawling toward the heavy oak desk,
pulling the emergency sidearm from the hidden drawer.
The assassin stepped through the broken glass,
his boots crunching on the shards.
He was dressed in tactical black,
a suppressed rifle raised to his shoulder.
He swept the room,
looking for my body.
Before he could find me,
the study door was kicked open.
Gabriel stood there,
a terrifying force of nature,
his own weapon drawn.
The assassin spun around,
but Gabriel fired twice,
precise and deadly.
The man collapsed,
his rifle clattering to the hardwood floor.
The room plunged back into silence,
save for the wailing alarms outside.
I stood up slowly,
brushing the dust from my knees.
Gabriel walked over,
kicking the assassin's weapon out of reach.
"Are you hurt,"
he asked,
his eyes scanning me for blood.
"No,"
I replied,
looking down at the man who had come to kill me.
He was still breathing,
clutching his shoulder in agony.
I knelt beside him,
pressing the barrel of my weapon against his kneecap.
"Who gave the order,"
I demanded,
my voice devoid of any hesitation.
The man groaned,
refusing to speak.
I looked at Gabriel,
and nodded once.
Gabriel stepped on the man's wounded shoulder,
applying excruciating pressure.
The assassin screamed,
finally breaking.
"Marcus Vance,"
he choked out,
"he runs the operations from a private club downtown."
I stood up,
slipping my weapon back into its holster.
"Clean this up,"
I told Gabriel's men as they rushed into the room.
"Where are you going,"
Gabriel asked,
watching me head toward the door.
"To a private club downtown,"
May you like
I answered,
"it is time to cancel the bounty."
