Chapter 9 - Wrath and Redemption
In the fraction of a second it took Celeste to realign her sights for a second shot, the grand staircase exploded into motion.
Gabriel didn't hesitate. He didn't check for cover. He saw me bleeding against the stairs, heard the gunshot, and a primal, terrifying roar tore from his throat.
He vaulted up the first flight of stairs with terrifying speed, ignoring the guard who was trying to crawl toward his dropped weapon. Gabriel grabbed the man by the tactical vest, lifted a two-hundred-pound mercenary off his feet with one hand, and hurled him bodily over the second-story railing into the marble foyer below with a bone-crunching crash.
Celeste turned pale, her hands shaking violently as she pointed her revolver at Gabriel’s chest.
“G-Gabriel, stay back!” she stammered, backing away toward the nursery hallway. “I’ll kill her! I swear to God I’ll—”
Gabriel didn't stop. He walked straight down the hallway toward her, ignoring the barrel of the gun pointed right at his heart, his storm-gray eyes locked onto hers with a dead, terrifying focus.
“Shoot me, Celeste,” Gabriel whispered, his voice dangerously calm as he closed the distance. “Go ahead. Pull the trigger. Because the moment you do, every man, woman, and dog loyal to my name will hunt down every surviving member of your family and burn your legacy to ash.”
Celeste’s finger trembled on the trigger. She looked at Gabriel’s eyes—eyes belonging to a man who had nothing left to lose—and realized, with absolute terror, that he wasn't bluffing.
She lowered the gun by a fraction of an inch.
That fraction of an inch was all Gabriel needed.
In a flash of motion, he closed the remaining distance, struck the revolver from her hand with a violent slap that sent the weapon skidding across the hardwood floor, and slammed her hard against the hallway wall, his forearm pinning her throat against the wood.
Celeste gasped for air, her face turning purple.
“Where is my daughter?” Gabriel snarled, his voice vibrating with suppressed murder.
“P-panic room,” she choked out, her fingernails clawing uselessly at his coat sleeve. “Key... in my pocket.”
Gabriel didn't waste another second. He drove the back of his hand against her jaw, knocking her out cold with a single, brutal blow. She slumped to the floor like a broken doll.
He didn't even look back at her. He sprinted past her toward the panic room at the end of the hall, slammed the digital keypad with the emergency override code he had memorized, and threw the heavy steel door open.
Inside, sitting in the corner with a confused, sleepy expression, wrapped in a plush blanket, was Lily.
“Daddy?” she rubbed her eyes, blinking against the light.
Gabriel dropped to his knees, hauled his four-year-old daughter into his arms, and buried his face in her dark curls, his broad shoulders shaking as he held her so tightly it seemed he was afraid she would dissolve into mist if he let go.
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“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with tears. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
I stood leaning against the hallway wall a few feet away, clutching my bleeding wrists where the zip-ties had cut into my skin, watching them. The nightmare was over. The monster was defeated. And the family was whole.
