Chapter 6 - The Ambush at the Garage
At 5:30 the following morning, while the sky over Philadelphia was still draped in deep navy blue, I left Vince and three guards stationed inside Room 604 with Anna and Lily.
I needed to clear the air.
I walked down to the hospital’s private basement parking garage accompanied by Dominic, my second security chief. My armored Maybach sat parked in a quiet corner near the medical supply elevators.
As we approached the vehicle, my instincts—trained by twenty years of survival in the underground world—screamed a warning.
The air in the garage smelled faintly of gasoline and wet rubber.
A light overhead flickered once, then died.
“Dominic,” I said softly, my hand sliding inside my bespoke suit jacket to grip the custom Colt .45 resting in my shoulder holster. “Back to the elevator.”
Before Dominic could turn around, three dark SUVs roared around the concrete pillars, their high beams blinding us as they cut off our path to the elevators.
The doors of the SUVs flew open. Six men in dark tactical gear stepped out, automatic submachine guns raised, their sights leveled at my chest.
Stepping out from the rear seat of the center vehicle was a man in a long camel-hair coat.
Dominic Castello.
The head of the New York syndicate looked at me with a sharp, arrogant smile, a silver-plated revolver resting casually in his right hand.
“Gabriel,” Castello chuckled, his voice echoing off the damp concrete walls. “You left your estate in a hurry yesterday. My sources told me you flew all the way to Philadelphia for a maid’s kid.”
I didn't move an inch. My hand remained steady inside my jacket. Beside me, Dominic subtly shifted his stance to cover my left flank.
“You’re getting sloppy, Gabriel,” Castello continued, taking three steps closer. “Evelyn gave me your estate schematics six months ago. I was planning to take your main house next week, but then you broke her leg of the operation over an eight-thousand-dollar clerical error. You brought yourself right out into the open for a housekeeper.”
“Evelyn was an idiot,” I said, my voice flat, cold, and entirely devoid of fear. “And so are you, Dominic.”
Castello’s smile faltered slightly. “I have six rifles pointed at your head, Moretti. You’re trapped in a basement.”
“Am I?” I asked smoothly.
I clicked a tiny button hidden inside my signet ring with my thumb.
CLICK.
Instantly, the heavy steel fire doors at both ends of the parking garage slammed down with a deafening crash, sealing the subterranean level entirely.
From the dark shadows behind the concrete pillars, twelve Moretti tactical operatives—led by Marco, who had flown in on my second helicopter two hours ago—emerged with heavy silenced carbines.
Red laser sights suddenly dotted the chests and foreheads of Castello’s six gunmen.
Castello’s eyes widened in sudden, violent shock. He spun around, looking at the tactical team that had completely surrounded his force.
“You thought Evelyn was your informant, Dominic?” I asked, stepping forward, my Colt .45 drawn and held casually at my side. “Evelyn was caught three weeks ago. Every blueprint, every schedule, and every detail she fed your organization for the last twenty-one days was drafted by my security team.”
Castello panicked. He raised his silver revolver toward my face.
THWIP.
A single silenced shot echoed through the garage.
Castello screamed as a bullet tore through his wrist, knocking the silver revolver onto the concrete floor. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his bleeding arm, his face pale with agony and terror.
His six gunmen immediately dropped their weapons onto the ground, raising their hands in surrender.
I walked up to the kneeling syndicate boss, stopping inches from his face.
“You came to a hospital to target a child, Dominic,” I said, looking down at him with dark, unforgiving eyes. “That violates every rule my father established forty years ago.”
“Gabriel... please!” Castello choked out, weeping from pain and humiliation. “It was business! Evelyn suggested it! We can make a deal— I’ll give you my port concessions in Jersey!”
I leaned down, my voice dropping into a whisper that chilled the air around us.
“Your concessions are already mine,” I said. “Marco.”
“Yes, Boss?”
“Take Dominic and his men to our warehouse in South Philly,” I commanded. “Strip their territory, hand their assets to the regional captains, and ensure they never step foot in Pennsylvania again.”
“Consider it done, Mr. Moretti,” Marco nodded.
I turned my back on the bleeding syndicate boss, adjusted my cuffs, and walked back toward the private elevator.
May you like
It was 6:45 a.m.
Lily’s surgery was in fifteen minutes.
