Chapter Forty-Eight
GAbrIAL
I ROLLED up just after midnight, the SUV sliding through the gates smooth as a blade. My guards stood on either side of the drive, rifles ready, faces empty. Not men — soldiers. Mine.
The estate stretched wide and dark across the land, its windows burning faint in the night. From a distance it could pass for comfort. Up close, it was nothing but warning.
I stepped out into the damp night air, pine and rain sharp in my lungs. The gravel crunched under my boots, steady. Every sound here belonged to me. That’s how you keep power, you own the silence, you own the air, you own the fear.
Inside, the marble floor gleamed under low light, each step echoing. The house wasn’t built for softness. It was built to remind anyone inside that survival was a privilege, not a right.
Sable and the children were secure. Contained. The flame preserved. My circle unbroken.
Mateo waited at the stairs, shoulders bent. “She’s waiting.”
“She’s waiting.”
“In the office?”
He nodded once.
“Good.”
I pushed the door open, light spilling out in a hard strip across the polished floor.
Leena sat in the middle of it, blouse undone, skirt hiked high on her thighs. She looked like sin dressed up for sale — lipstick thick, hair loose, skin gleaming under the lamplight. She thought she understood the game.
“Gabrial,” she purred, voice dripping sugar. “You’ve kept me waiting.”
I didn’t answer. Just stepped inside and closed the door.
She shifted, crossing her legs slow, showing me exactly what she thought I wanted to see. “You work too hard. A man like you deserves to be taken care of.” Her hand skimmed her neck, down over her chest, pushing fabric aside as though undressing in prayer.
I leaned against the desk, arms crossed, watching. Letting her play it out.
“You gave me a job,” she whispered, rising from the chair. Her hips swayed, deliberate, practiced. “I delivered. I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t hesitate. I did it all for you.”
She stopped in front of me, close enough I could smell the perfume clinging to her skin, sweet, heavy, desperate. Her hand slid up my chest, nails tracing the line of my lapel.
“Doesn’t that earn me something?” she murmured. “A place beside you? Protection? A little…” her voice dropped, sultry, “gratitude?”
Her fingers moved lower, bold, brushing against my belt. She tilted her chin, her lips inches from mine.
“Let me show you,” she breathed. “You don’t have to carry this weight alone. I can be what Sable never was. Loyal. Obedient. Yours.”
Her mouth almost touched my jaw. She thought she was winning. She thought her body was currency I’d cash.
I let her.
I let her believe it. I let her think she’d worked her way into something bigger than herself.
Then I struck.
My hand cracked across her face, burning and final. The sound split the room like gunfire. She staggered back, clutching her cheek, eyes wide, lipstick smeared across her skin.
“You were useful,” I said, my voice flat, cold. “Don’t confuse that with loyal.”
Her breath hitched, shock twisting her features. “I—I did everything you asked.”
“And you thought that made you special,” I said, stepping closer. “You confuse spreading your legs with loyalty. That might work on weak men, but not me. Flesh is cheap. Loyalty? Fear? Those are priceless.”
Her mouth trembled. “Please—”
“Please?” I stepped closer, my words deliberate, ritualistic, “I smell corruption in you. Lust. Vanity. Ego. You mistake flesh for faith. You believe a man fucking you is devotion. That is not worship. That is rot.”
“I gave you Sable—”
I cut her off with a tilt of my head, voice sharpened to a blade. “You gave me nothing. She was always mine. You merely played courier.”
The truth hollowed her from within. I saw it in her eyes.
“I have seen women like you all my life,” I continued, my voice lowering to a sermon’s cadence. “Painted lips, hollow hearts, bodies bartered like coins at the gates of fire. You think flesh redeems. But flesh is dust. Dust to dust. It is purity that sanctifies.”
Her mouth opened, closed. That hollow look hit her face, the one that shows when someone realizes they were never holding the cards.
“You said you’d protect me,” she tried again, desperate now. “You promised—”
“I don’t promise,” I snapped. “I take. I use. And when I’m done, I don’t owe a fucking thing.”
The office door opened. Two men stepped inside, rifles slung, eyes flat.
Leena spun toward them, panic flooding her voice. “Wait! Please—I can still be useful. I can do more—”
I turned away, straightening my jacket, already done with her.
“Take out the trash,” I said. Then I paused, my voice low, final. “Put her with the other flesh downstairs.”
Her scream ripped through the room, shrill and broken, as they grabbed her. Heels scraped marble, nails clawed wood, voice cracked into begging. They dragged her out, her curses collapsing into sobs until the door slammed and silence swallowed the sound.
I stood over the desk, eyes on the maps, lines drawn, territories marked. Money routes. Gun shipments. Names of men who thought they could step out of line. All of it under my hand.
Sable was still mine. Always had been. And soon, she’d remember.
Because in my world, nothing you think you own is really yours. Unless you’re me.