Chapter 24 Gabriel
Gabriel
The basement air is colder than the rest of the house, the kind of cold that settles in your lungs and refuses to leave.
Viktor is strapped to my table like a centerpiece in the middle of the room, leather biting into his wrists and ankles.
The lights overhead are too bright and too white, and the thick concrete walls hold every sound inside, swallowing fear and panic until it turns into something private.
The place smells like a slaughterhouse, damp floors, rust and iron, and the heavy sting of bleach layered over it all.
Two guards stand in opposite corners. Juan is near the door with his arms folded across his chest and his eyes straight ahead. Luca stands beside the camera tripod, adjusting the angle like precision matters more than blood.
The straps creak when Viktor lifts his head. His mouth is bruised and split, his lips swollen, dried blood crusted at the corners. Juan pulls the gag down, and Viktor inhales sharply, he has been waiting to speak.
“Jefe,” he says, voice smooth. “You came fast.”
I set a folded paper on the table in front of him. His eyes flick to it, then back to my face.
“What’s that,” he asks.
“A message,” I say.
Viktor laughs softly. “For me?”
“For everyone,” I correct.
Juan shifts, ready, and Luca steadies the camera. Viktor’s smile thins as he studies the setup.
“You’re going to record,” he says.
“Yes,” I reply.
He lets out a low chuckle. “You want theatrics.”
I lean in just enough for him to catch my scent, gun oil and cologne and the heat of a man who has already decided. “Who let you in,” I ask.
Viktor’s eyes gleam. “No one,” he says. “Your walls are old.”
I don’t blink. I keep my voice quiet and controlled. “Who entered her room.”
Viktor’s smile returns like a disease, and he tilts his head, savoring it. “That note worked, didn’t it.”
Juan takes one step forward. I lift a hand and stop him. Viktor watches the gesture like he enjoys it.
“You’ll break rules for her,” he murmurs.
“I’ll break bones and kill for her,” I correct.
Something shifts in his eyes, just a fraction, and I tap the folded paper once. “Read,” I tell him.
Viktor glances down, then back up. “I’m not your dog.”
I shrug once. “Then you’re a corpse who can still hear.”
His jaw tightens. He looks down again. His eyes scan the page, and his smile starts to fade because it’s not my handwriting.
You don’t get to talk to me. I’m not your princess.
Viktor’s throat works as he looks up at me. The smile is gone now, replaced with something colder and smaller.
“She wrote that,” he says.
“Yes,” I answer.
His eyes narrow. “You let her.”
“I gave her the pen,” I say.
Viktor’s gaze shifts, calculating. “That’s dangerous for you.”
I lean in. “That’s the point.”
I nod once to Luca. “Record.”
Luca hits the button. The red light comes on with a soft click,i and that sound runs up my spine like a promise. Now this isn’t just a basement. It’s a statement.
I turn my attention fully to Viktor and keep my voice even. “You’re going to say a few things,” I tell him.
Viktor’s mouth twitches. “And if I don’t ?”
I don’t answer with words. I set my gun on the table and keep my eyes on his.
“First,” I say, “you’re going to say her name with respect.”
Viktor’s eyes flash. “No.”
Juan moves, and I lift my hand again to stop him. “You already said it with disrespect,” I tell Viktor. “That’s why you’re here.”
Viktor exhales through his nose like he’s trying to hold on to power. He stares at me, then his lips part.
“Savannah,” he says, clipped.
“Again,” I say. “With respect.”
His jaw tightens. His eyes flick to the camera, then back.
“Savannah Amato,” he says. “Your wife.”
Good.
“Second,” I say, “you’re going to tell me who your handler is.”
Viktor smiles again, smaller. “You think I had one.”
I tilt my head. “Viktor,” I say softly, “you brought a second team into my house. You didn’t do that alone.”
His eyes narrow, so I keep going. “And Carson isn’t smart enough to place a note on a pillow like that. Someone trained him on a plan.”
The silence in the basement grows heavy. You can hear the camera motor, a guard swallowing, Viktor’s breathing changing.
Then Viktor’s voice lowers. “You’re clever.”
“I’m thorough,” I correct.
He stares for a long beat, then says, almost amused, “Your Pakhan will be proud.”
Pakhan. Mikhail. My jaw tightens. He’s confirming the direction without realizing it. I don’t lunge and I don’t rush. I ask again.
“Who,” I repeat.
Viktor’s gaze hardens. “You kill me either way,” he says. “So why would I give you anything.”
I nod once. “You’re right.”
Then I slide a second paper across the table. Alliance letterhead. Cassio’s signature. Viktor’s eyes flick down, and his smile disappears again.
“What is that,” he asks.
“That,” I say, “is an agreement that the Alliance and the cartel will share intelligence until the Russian line is severed.”
Viktor looks up sharp. “That treaty won’t hold.”
“It will,” I reply. “Because I paid for it.”
“With what,” he asks, tasting greed.
“With territory,” I say. “And with your life.”
His eyes flicker. He didn’t expect a cost that real.
“Cassio wants the name too,” I tell him. “So if you don’t speak to me, you’ll speak to him.”
Viktor’s jaw tightens. He knows Cassio doesn’t negotiate. He knows Cassio breaks people. He studies me, then exhales.
“Romano,” he says.
The name hits the room like a sharp dagger. Juan’s eyes shift. Luca’s posture tightens. I keep my face blank, but something cold slides down my spine because it makes everything click. The pressure, the speed of information, the way the Alliance perimeter felt off. It was internal.
“Romano who,” I ask.
Viktor licks blood from his lip slowly. “Romano Bellini,” he says. “Italian blood. Close to the Alliance. He wants Cassio’s seat.”
There it’s. That’s why the hit was an Alliance route. That’s why Savannah became the target. Not because she’s weak, but because she’s valuable. Because she’s the easiest pressure point to make two kings tear each other apart.
I nod once. “Third,” I say, “you’re going to tell the camera what happens to anyone who touches my wife again.”
Viktor’s smile twitches, bitter. “You think the camera scares men like me.”
I lean in so close my voice becomes a near whisper. “it’s not for you,” I say. “it’s for the men who still want to live.”
Viktor stares, then turns his head toward the camera. His voice goes quiet. “Anyone who touches her…”
“No,” I cut in. “Say it like you mean it.”
His jaw tightens, hate flaring in his eyes, but he speaks louder.
“Anyone who touches Savannah Amato,” he says clearly, “dies.”
I hold his gaze. “And.”
His eyes flare, but he continues. “And their families die. And their bosses die.”
I nod to Luca. “Send it.”
Luca stops recording and immediately moves to transmit it. Juan watches me without questions, waiting for what comes next.
I straighten and look at Juan. “Bring Carson.”
Juan nods once and walks out. Viktor’s eyes widen slightly.
“Carson is here,” he says.
“He will be,” I reply, because after tonight every rat will start to scramble when the message goes out.
Luca’s phone buzzes. He glances down, then up. “Cassio received it.”
“Response,” I ask.
Luca’s mouth tightens. “He wants a sit down tomorrow. With you. With the five smaller family heads.”
Cassio wants unity, and he wants to smoke out Romano.
“Fine,” I say.
Luca hesitates. “He also said he’s assigning an enforcer to your wife.”
My blood goes cold. “No.”
Viktor watches this like it entertains him, and I hate that. I turn back to Luca. “Tell Cassio if he sends an enforcer to my wife, I’ll break his hands.”
Luca nods once, then adds quietly, “Cassio said the enforcer isn’t Italian.”
I still. “What.”
“He wants to assign a cartel enforcer,” Luca says. “Someone from your side. He said it proves unity.”
My jaw locks.
Juan returns then, dragging a man by the collar. Carson. Blood runs down his face and his eyes are wide. He sees Viktor strapped to the table and goes pale. He tries to jerk away, and Juan slams him to his knees.
Carson’s voice shakes. “Jefe, listen.”
I don’t let him speak. “Who do you answer to,” I ask calmly.
His eyes flick to Viktor, then away. He swallows hard. “I don’t …”
Juan grips his hair and yanks his head back. Carson gasps.
“Answer,” I say.
Carson trembles. “Romano,” he blurts. “Romano Bellini.”
There it is.
Viktor’s smile fades completely now.
I nod to Luca. “Send that too.”
Luca nods and starts recording again.
I turn to Carson. “You touched my wife’s door.”
Carson shakes his head violently. “No, no.”
“You sent men,” I correct. “You funded Viktor.”
Carson’s breath breaks. “I was told…”
“Who told you,” I ask.
Carson’s mouth shakes. He laughs once, panicked and broken. “Romano,” he says. “He said it would make Cassio break the treaty. He said the cartel would look weak.”
I stand straight and look at Juan. “Take Carson. Get more information.”
Juan nods and drags him away. Carson’s screaming fades down the hall.
I turn back to Viktor. The camera light is on again.
I step into frame. This part isn’t for Viktor. It’s for Romano. For Mikhail.
“Savannah Amato is not a bargaining chip,” I say. “She is not to be used as leverage.”
I pause, then add, cold and absolute, “Try to use her, and you die.”
I nod to Luca. “Send.”
Luca ends the recording. The red light clicks off, and silence settles hard.
Viktor stares at me. No smile now, only calculation. He knows his time is done.
I step back and nod to a guard. “Keep him alive until tomorrow morning.”
The guard nods.
I leave the basement without another word and take the stairs fast, back into the warmer part of the house, back toward the bedroom.
* * *
When I open the door, she’s awake. She’s sitting up against the headboard, panic device on the pillow, eyes wide. She looks at me like she’s searching for injuries.
I move slowly and keep my voice low. “I’m back.”
Her breath releases, shaky. “Did you…”
I cut it off gently. “No details. Not tonight.”
Her throat works. She nods once.
“Did you write the message,” she whispers.
I step closer, sit on the edge of the bed, and look at her. “Yes.”
Her lips tremble. “Did it work.”
I hold her gaze. “It started something,” I answer honestly.
Her eyes widen. “What.”
“Cassio wants a council sit down tomorrow,” I say. “And Romano just showed his hand.”
Her throat tightens. “Romano.”
I nod once, then add, “Cassio also wants to assign you protection.”
Her body stiffens instantly. Panic flashes across her face, and her fingers curl into the sheets.
“No,” she whispers.
I reach for her hand slowly, take it, and squeeze once. “He doesn’t decide for you,” I tell her. “I won’t allow it.”
Her eyes burn into mine. Then she whispers, so small I almost miss it, “I don’t want another man near me.”
My jaw tightens. “I know.”
I lean in, forehead to hers. “Tomorrow you’ll come with me,” I murmur. “You’ll sit where they can see you. And you’ll stay beside me.”
Her breath catches. “That’s dangerous.”
“Yes,” I say. “That’s the point.”
She swallows hard. “Will they listen.”
“They will,” I say. “Because they’re going to watch you choose.”
Her throat works. “Choose what.”
I brush my thumb over her knuckles once. “Choose to be seen,” I answer. “Not as a pawn. As my wife.”
Her eyes shine. A tear slips. She hates it. I catch it with my thumb.
“You already wrote the message,” I tell her quietly. “I’m just delivering it.”
She nods shakily, then she whispers, “Stay.”
I slide into bed beside her and pull her against my chest. Her shoulders drop slowly as her body starts to soften.
“Sleep,” I murmur.
She doesn’t sleep yet, not fully, but her breathing slows, and my mind stays awake. Tomorrow isn’t just a meeting. Tomorrow is a stage, and Romano thinks he can crack my wife to make me crack.
He’s going to learn something old world men forget. A woman who survives and chooses anyway becomes the most dangerous kind of power. And if Cassio tries to put a leash on her, he’ll learn it too. Because the next message I send won’t be ink.
It’ll be blood on a council table.
And everyone will read it.