Chapter 2 - The Man Who Called Himself Gabriel's Brother
Gabriel heard the sound before I did.
His expression changed instantly.
The confusion vanished.
The grief disappeared behind the cold discipline that had helped him survive twenty years in Chicago's criminal world.
He raised one finger to his lips.
I stopped breathing.
Another sound came from the hallway.
A soft metallic click.
Someone was testing the damaged lock.
Gabriel reached for his pistol.
Then he remembered it lay on the floor near my feet.
He moved slowly.
The floorboard creaked again.
A man's voice spoke outside.
"Boss? Everything all right?"
Marco.
Gabriel's body relaxed by a fraction.
But I did not.
I had learned that the most dangerous men rarely sounded dangerous.
Gabriel picked up his weapon and lowered it beside his thigh.
"Stay there," he told me.
He approached the broken doorway.
"Marco, I told you to wait downstairs."
"Daniel called. He says there's been a situation."
"What situation?"
"A problem with the cars."
Gabriel glanced toward me.
I shook my head almost imperceptibly.
"Tell him I'll handle it."
Marco hesitated.
"He's already on his way."
The words made my stomach tighten.
Gabriel stepped into the hall.
"Who told him the address?"
A silence followed.
Then Marco replied, "He knew where we were going."
Gabriel turned his head toward me.
The realization passed between us without a word.
Daniel had not been waiting for Gabriel to find me.
He had known where I was.
Possibly for months.
"Go to the street," Gabriel ordered. "No visitors. Nobody enters this building without my permission."
"Understood."
Footsteps retreated.
Gabriel closed what remained of my door.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he asked, "How far along are you?"
"Thirty-four weeks."
His face tightened.
He calculated.
I watched the exact moment he understood.
The baby had been conceived before the warehouse attack.
Before my disappearance.
Before he decided I had betrayed him.
"Clara."
"Don't."
"Is the child mine?"
I looked at him.
"What do you think?"
His eyes filled.
"I need you to tell me."
"Yes, Gabriel. She's yours."
He turned away.
One hand pressed against his mouth.
For nearly a minute, the most feared man in Chicago looked like someone trying to keep himself from collapsing.
Then he whispered, "A daughter?"
I nodded.
"That's what the ultrasound says."
He closed his eyes.
I hated the fact that his pain still affected me.
I hated that some wounded part of me wanted to comfort him.
He had spent eight months believing I was a monster.
And I had spent eight months wondering whether he had ordered my murder.
Neither truth could be undone by a single revelation.
"Why didn't you tell me before?" he asked.
I stared at him.
"I bought baby socks the day before the explosion."
His gaze shifted toward my hands.
"I was going to tell you over dinner."
He looked as though someone had punched him.
"I didn't know."
"No. You didn't."
"Clara, if I had—"
"Knowing wouldn't have changed what your men did."
He said nothing.
Outside, thunder rolled across the city.
Rain rattled against the windows.
My daughter kicked hard enough to make me gasp.
Gabriel noticed.
"What's wrong?"
"She's moving."
"Does it hurt?"
"Sometimes."
He looked at my stomach with a hunger so heartbreaking that I almost turned away.
"Can I?"
I hesitated.
Every instinct told me to refuse.
But the child inside me was his daughter too.
And whatever had happened between us, she had done nothing wrong.
I took his hand and placed it against the side of my belly, away from the scar.
For a few seconds, there was nothing.
Then the baby kicked.
Gabriel froze.
His face changed completely.
It was as though someone had opened a window inside a locked room.
"That was her?"
"Yes."
Another movement followed.
A tear slipped down his cheek.
He did not wipe it away.
"Hello, sweetheart," he whispered.
I looked toward the window.
I couldn't watch him love her.
Not yet.
Then his phone rang.
Daniel again.
Gabriel withdrew his hand.
This time, he answered.
"Where are you?"
Daniel's voice was loud enough for me to hear.
"Ten minutes away. Marco said you located her."
Gabriel watched me carefully.
"Yes."
"Is it finished?"
A silence.
Gabriel's expression did not move.
"Define finished."
"Gabriel, you know what I mean."
"No. Tell me."
Daniel exhaled.
"Did she confess?"
"Not yet."
"Don't let her manipulate you. She's good at that."
Gabriel looked toward my scar.
"Apparently."
"You sound strange."
"It's been a long day."
"She's dangerous, Gabriel."
The irony nearly made me laugh.
"Then I'll be careful," Gabriel replied.
Daniel lowered his voice.
"I know what she meant to you. But remember what she did to Thomas, Nick, and Arturo."
The three dead men.
Names that had haunted Gabriel for eight months.
"I remember."
"Good. I'll be there soon."
Gabriel ended the call.
I watched him.
"You believe me?"
"I believe someone hurt you."
"That's not the same thing."
"No."
He looked toward the door.
"But Daniel just asked whether you confessed."
"So?"
"I never told him I was going to question you."
My pulse quickened.
Gabriel continued.
"He thought I was coming here to kill you."
"Because that's what he wanted."
"Maybe."
"Gabriel."
He met my eyes.
"You still don't understand how far this goes."
"Then help me understand."
I wanted to tell him everything.
But memory did not arrive neatly.
It came in fragments.
The smell of antiseptic.
The weight of restraints.
A masked man.
Evelyn's trembling hands.
A voice behind a curtain saying the woman was supposed to disappear before winter.
I took a slow breath.
"There were four men holding me. Sometimes five. One wore a gold wedding ring with a square black stone. One limped. Another called himself Bishop."
Gabriel's face changed.
"Bishop?"
"Yes."
"Are you certain?"
"He was the one who brought food."
Gabriel sat in the chair opposite me.
"Andrew Bishop disappeared four months ago."
"From where?"
"Daniel said Bell's people killed him."
I studied Gabriel's expression.
"Did anyone find a body?"
"No."
"Then he lied."
Gabriel ran one hand over his face.
"Bishop used to handle security for my father's properties."
"The crown symbol."
Gabriel nodded.
"Daniel inherited the division when my father retired from active operations."
"What happened to your father?"
"He died three years ago."
I knew that much.
But I remembered something else.
Something Gabriel had told me on a winter evening while we lay beneath blankets in his penthouse.
His father, Victor Russo, had never trusted Daniel completely.
He called him ambitious.
Too ambitious.
At the time, Gabriel dismissed the concern as an old man's suspicion.
Now I wondered whether Victor Russo had seen something his son refused to acknowledge.
"Your father warned you about him," I said.
Gabriel looked up.
"What?"
"You told me once."
"He warned me about everyone."
"No. You said your father thought Daniel loved power more than loyalty."
Gabriel's expression darkened.
"He did say that."
"And you didn't listen."
"Daniel saved my life when we were twenty-one."
"That doesn't mean he wanted to save it forever."
He leaned back.
I could see him struggling.
Not because he was unintelligent.
Gabriel was one of the sharpest men I had ever known.
But betrayal is hardest to see when the person holding the knife has spent years standing beside you.
A knock came at the door.
Three deliberate taps.
Gabriel stood.
"Who is it?"
"Marco."
"Come in."
The bodyguard entered carrying a small medical bag.
Gabriel frowned.
"What's that?"
"Daniel told me to bring it. Said Miss Hayes might need something."
I felt my blood turn cold.
Marco held up the bag.
Inside were sealed dressings, gloves, saline, and a syringe.
I recognized the medication label immediately.
Midazolam.
A sedative.
I had administered it countless times in hospital settings.
It could be used safely by trained professionals with appropriate monitoring.
But in the hands of someone trying to silence a weak, pregnant woman, it was terrifying.
"Who packed that?" I asked.
Marco looked surprised.
"Daniel's medical contact."
Gabriel took the bag.
He examined the contents.
Then he looked directly at Marco.
"Did Daniel give you instructions?"
Marco hesitated.
"To help if she became hysterical."
My hands began shaking.
Gabriel closed the bag.
"Take your weapon out."
Marco blinked.
"Boss?"
"Slowly. Place it on the counter."
"Gabriel, I don't—"
"Do it."
The bodyguard obeyed.
Gabriel took the weapon and set it beyond reach.
"Did Daniel tell you to sedate her?"
Marco swallowed.
"He said she might need to be controlled."
Gabriel's jaw tightened.
"Leave."
"Sir—"
"Go downstairs. Stay with Luis. Do not contact Daniel."
Marco left.
I stared at the medical bag.
"He knew," I whispered.
Gabriel looked at me.
"He knew I would be alive when you got here."
"Maybe he prepared for any possibility."
"He sent something that could keep me from talking."
Gabriel didn't argue.
That frightened me almost more than his denial would have.
Because now he was beginning to believe me.
And the moment Gabriel Russo began looking for the truth, people would start dying to keep him from finding it.
"We have to leave," I said.
"Agreed."
"No hospitals connected to your organization."
"There's a private clinic on the North Side."
"Who pays for it?"
He hesitated.
"One of my companies."
"Then no."
"Clara, you're pregnant and injured. You need medical care."
"I've been getting medical care."
"Where?"
I shook my head.
"I won't tell you."
His face tightened.
"I'm trying to help."
"And eight months ago, I begged someone to help me while they showed me a recording of you calling me a traitor."
He looked away.
I continued.
"You don't get my trust back because you suddenly feel guilty."
"You're right."
His answer surprised me.
Gabriel moved to the kitchen window and looked down at the alley.
"Do you have someone you trust?"
"One person."
"Call them."
I hesitated.
Then I removed an inexpensive phone from the lining of my handbag.
Gabriel stared.
"You've had another phone?"
"One Daniel doesn't know about."
I dialed Evelyn.
She answered after two rings.
"Clara?"
"Evelyn, something happened."
"Are you safe?"
"No."
A pause.
"Is the baby moving?"
"Yes."
"Any bleeding?"
"No."
"Where are you?"
"At the apartment."
"Who found you?"
I looked toward Gabriel.
"Gabriel Russo."
The silence on the other end was absolute.
Then Evelyn said, "Get away from him."
"He's here with me."
"Clara, listen carefully. You cannot let him take you to one of his facilities."
"I know."
"You don't understand."
Her voice began to shake.
"Someone came to my apartment yesterday."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
"They knew I helped you escape."
I gripped the phone.
"Evelyn?"
"I think they've been watching me."
"Where are you now?"
She paused.
"At the clinic."
"Are you alone?"
"No."
A muffled sound interrupted her.
Then I heard a man's voice.
"Doctor Mercer?"
Evelyn whispered, "Don't come here."
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
Gabriel was already moving.
"What happened?"
"They found her."
"Who?"
"The woman who saved me."
"Where?"
I shook my head.
"I can't tell you."
"Clara."
"If your men know, Daniel will know."
Gabriel looked at me for a long moment.
Then he removed his phone's SIM card and placed it on the table.
He took off his watch.
He pulled a small tracking device from his coat pocket and disabled it.
I watched in disbelief.
"What are you doing?"
"Making sure nobody follows us through my equipment."
He handed me the car keys.
"You choose where we go."
"Why?"
"Because you're right."
He swallowed.
"I don't know who I can trust."
Five minutes later, we left the apartment through the rear staircase.
Gabriel wore a dark baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.
I carried one canvas bag containing everything I owned.
Two sweaters.
Prenatal vitamins.
A photograph of my mother.
The white baby socks I had retrieved from Gabriel's kitchen before my disappearance.
We moved carefully down the stairs.
My side burned.
The baby pressed against my ribs.
On the second-floor landing, I stopped.
Gabriel reached toward me, then withdrew his hand.
"Can you keep going?"
"Yes."
"Clara—"
"Don't touch me unless I ask."
He nodded.
We reached the alley.
Rain covered the pavement in silver reflections.
Gabriel opened the passenger door of an ordinary sedan parked behind the building.
I had never seen him drive anything so anonymous.
"Whose car is this?"
"Borrowed."
"From who?"
"Someone Daniel doesn't know."
I hesitated.
Then I climbed inside.
Gabriel rounded the front of the car.
Before he reached the driver's door, headlights appeared at the end of the alley.
A black SUV turned slowly toward us.
Gabriel stopped.
I recognized the vehicle.
Not by its plates.
Not by its make.
By the cracked right headlight.
I had seen that same crack outside the building where I was held.
"Gabriel," I whispered.
He looked at the SUV.
"Get down."
I dropped below the dashboard.
The vehicle accelerated.
Gabriel threw himself into the driver's seat and started the engine.
The SUV blocked the alley exit.
He slammed the sedan into reverse.
Tires screamed across wet pavement.
A gunshot shattered the rear window.
Glass exploded around us.
I screamed and covered my stomach.
Gabriel turned the wheel sharply.
The sedan struck a stack of garbage containers, sending them crashing across the alley.
Another shot cracked against the trunk.
"Stay low!"
He reversed onto a narrow side street.
An oncoming delivery truck blasted its horn.
Gabriel twisted the steering wheel and narrowly cleared its bumper.
I couldn't breathe.
The scar along my ribs felt as though someone had reopened it.
"Gabriel, the baby—"
"I know."
"Please don't let them—"
"They won't touch you."
He accelerated through a yellow light.
The SUV followed.
Rain blurred the windshield.
Chicago rushed past in streaks of neon and red brake lights.
Gabriel turned twice, then three times, moving through residential streets until the SUV disappeared behind a line of traffic.
Only then did he slow down.
I sat rigidly in the passenger seat.
My hands were shaking so badly that I couldn't release the seat belt.
Gabriel pulled into the parking lot of a closed hardware store.
He turned off the headlights.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then he asked, "That SUV. You've seen it before?"
I nodded.
"Outside the place where they kept me."
"How do you know?"
"The headlight."
He closed his eyes.
"Daniel's security team has six identical vehicles."
I stared through the rain.
"One of them took me from the warehouse."
Gabriel's phone, lying on the console without its SIM card, lit briefly as he activated an offline photo archive.
He opened an old image.
It showed a row of black SUVs outside his father's security compound.
He enlarged the photograph.
One vehicle had a damaged right headlight.
A man stood beside it.
Tall.
Blue-eyed.
Sandy-haired.
Daniel Shaw.
Gabriel stared at the image.
For several seconds, he looked incapable of moving.
Then he whispered, "How long have you known?"
I turned toward him.
"Known what?"
"That it was Daniel."
I lowered my eyes.
"Since the night he came into the room where they were holding me."
Gabriel went perfectly still.
"He came to see you?"
"Once."
"Without a mask?"
I nodded.
"What did he say?"
My throat tightened.
I had tried not to remember those words.
For eight months, I had heard them in nightmares.
Finally, I forced myself to speak.
"He said you would never believe me."
Gabriel looked at the photograph again.
"And?"
I felt a tear fall.
"He said that by the time you found me, you'd be so desperate for revenge that you would finish the job yourself."
Gabriel's hands curled into fists.
"But there was something else," I whispered.
He looked at me.
"What?"
"Daniel wasn't working alone."
The rain drummed against the roof.
May you like
I stared at the photograph of Gabriel's oldest friend.
"Someone inside your family gave him permission."
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