Chapter 36 Gabriel
Gabriel
The phone keeps vibrating like it’s angry, four times before a text lights the screen.
ROMANO: We need to talk. Tonight. Church.
Of course he chooses church like it’s neutral ground, like God belongs to him, like wax and stone can wash blood off men.
Savannah is pressed against my chest, warm and soft in a way that still feels unreal. Her breathing is slow. Her body finally relaxed. She is half asleep, and the timing makes me want to kill him for daring to intrude on the first rest she has had in days.
I don’t move too fast. If I move too fast, her nervous system wakes up like a dog hearing thunder. I keep my hand steady on her waist and whisper, “Stay.”
Her lashes flutter. “I’m here,” she murmurs, thick with sleep.
I slide out of bed carefully, keeping the blanket tucked over her like a shield.
The room is dim and heavy with quiet. The air smells like her shampoo and the lingering trace of sex.
I step to the window and scan the courtyard, the gate lights, the shadows.
Everything looks normal, and normal is what comes before people die.
My phone vibrates again. I don’t answer. Romano doesn’t get access to my voice whenever he wants.
Another text appears.
ROMANO: Your wife’s sentence will be protected. By me. You should be grateful.
My jaw locks. Protected by him means controlled by him. It means spectacle. It means he wants Savannah in a spotlight so he can claim he is the one holding it steady.
I type one reply.
GAbrIEL: No.
He calls immediately. I let it ring.
Behind me Savannah shifts. Her breath changes, faster, shallower. I turn and kneel beside the bed. Her eyes are open now, wide, waking into fear.
“What,” she whispers.
“Romano,” I say.
Her throat tightens instantly. “Why,” she asks, like the word hurts.
I don’t lie. “He wants church. Tonight.”
Her face drains. She clutches her pendant automatically, fingers shaking like the metal can anchor her bones. “I don’t want to go,” she whispers.
“You won’t,” I say immediately.
Her eyes flick to mine, searching for the trap, searching for the cost.
“You won’t,” I repeat.
“But,” she starts.
“Listen,” I cut in, keeping my voice low. “You already chose. You already spoke. They don’t get more just because they demand it.”
Her eyes glisten. Not tears. Heat. Anger and fear mixed together. “They always get more,” she whispers.
That sentence is a scar.
I nod once. “Not from me.”
My phone vibrates again.
ROMANO: If you refuse, the Alliance will interpret it as weakness. Cassio will respond. So will Mikhail.
There it is. Not a request. A threat. He is trying to corner me into a decision that makes Savannah the payment.
I stand slowly and step into the hallway, closing the bedroom door behind me. I don’t have conversations like this within earshot of her. Her ears don’t need Romano’s poison.
* * *
I walk to my office. Juan is already there. He always is. He doesn’t sleep. His eyes lift when I enter and he doesn’t waste time.
“Romano,” he says.
I nod. “Church.”
Juan’s jaw tightens. “They’re moving fast.”
“Yes.”
Luca is on the couch, half sitting, half standing, phone in his hand. He looks up. “Cassio left your gates and went straight to a secure line,” he says. “We intercepted chatter. They’re coordinating.”
Romano calls again. I answer this time, not because I want to, but because the sooner I hear his angle, the sooner I cut it.
“Romano.”
His voice is smooth. Almost warm. That is what makes him dangerous. “Gabriel. I’m glad you picked up.”
“I’m not.”
He chuckles softly. “Temper. I admire it.”
“You didn’t call to admire.”
A beat. Then he slips into the script. “I called to protect your treaty.”
Juan’s eyes narrow at the sound of his voice. Luca stays still, listening.
“Cassio is under pressure,” Romano says. “The families are restless. They believe the cartel is contaminating the Alliance.”
Contaminating. The same poison word.
“And you think churches fix that,” I say flatly.
Romano laughs, quiet and pleased with himself. “No. Churches fix the narrative.”
“What do you want.”
“I want Savannah seen,” he says. “I want the Alliance reassured.”
“She’s not a performer.”
“In this world,” he replies, “everything is a performance.”
Heat rises in my chest, and I keep my voice even. “You don’t get her.”
“I’m not asking for access,” he says smoothly. “I’m asking for participation.”
Participation. That is what he calls coercion.
“No.”
He sighs like I am disappointing him. “If you refuse, Cassio will move on his own. He will impose security. He will place men around her. He will call it tradition.”
Juan shifts, anger tightening his posture. Luca’s jaw flexes.
“And if Cassio moves,” Romano adds, quieter now, sharper, “Mikhail will interpret it as fracture. He will strike. Not at you.”
My blood goes cold.
“At my wife,” I say.
His tone turns silk. “Yes. At your wife.”
My grip tightens around the phone. “If you threaten her, you die.”
Romano laughs softly. “Threaten. Gabriel, I’m warning you.”
Warnings can be threats. He knows it.
“Tonight. Church. Fifteen minutes,” he says. “You come alone.”
Alone means ambush. Alone means he wants to speak without witnesses.
“No,” I say. “If you want to talk, you come to me. My ground. My terms.”
He pauses, and I can hear him smile through the line. “Your ground is cartel ground, and Cassio won’t tolerate that.”
“Cassio doesn’t get to tolerate my house.”
Romano’s voice softens like he is being kind. “You’re new to Italian politics. You’re strong. But you’re not fluent.”
I don’t respond.
“This is my offer,” he continues. “A private meeting at the church. No cameras. No crowds. No humiliation. Just a conversation that keeps your wife alive.”
My jaw locks harder. He thinks fear makes me compliant.
“Your offer is a leash,” I say.
His tone cools a degree. “Then call it whatever you need, but understand this. If you refuse, Cassio will create a solution you like less.”
A solution means force. It means they are already planning.
I breathe in slowly. “I’ll call Cassio.”
Romano chuckles. “You can try. But Cassio is already listening to me.”
Then he hangs up.
The line goes dead.
Juan swears under his breath. Luca stands fully now, face tight.
“He’s positioning himself as the mediator,” Luca says. “He wants control of the narrative and Cassio’s ear.”
“And he wants Savannah under pressure,” Juan adds.
“Yes.”
This is not just politics. it’s a coordinated squeeze. Romano pressures Cassio. Cassio pressures me. Then they pressure Savannah. They want her to crack on camera, to make her sentence look rehearsed, to make her look controlled so they can call her weak or call her coerced. Either way, they win.
I turn to Luca. “Where is Cassio.”
“Alliance safe house,” Luca says. “He’s not at your gates anymore.”
Juan’s voice goes hard. “We can hit the safe house.”
I shake my head once. “No.”
Juan’s brows knit. “Why not.”
“Because that’s what Romano wants,” I say. “Escalation. A headline. Proof the cartel can’t be civilized.”
Luca nods slowly. “So what do we do.”
I stare at the map on the wall. Routes. Safe houses. Church. Every line ends at one thing, Savannah’s body being used as the bargaining chip.
“We remove her from the board,” I say.
Juan’s eyes sharpen. “Move her.”
“Yes. Tonight.”
Luca’s jaw tightens. “She won’t like being moved.”
“I know.”
Juan steps closer. “Where.”
“Private property outside the city,” I say. “No Alliance eyes. No cartel mouths. Just my security and one trusted medic.”
Luca nods. “I can set it up.”
Juan watches me. “And Romano.”
I look down at my phone. Romano thinks he is driving. He thinks I am reacting.
“I don’t go to church,” I say. “I send him something else.”
Juan’s brows lift. “What.”
I exhale slowly. “A message. One he can’t twist.”
I leave my office and head back toward the bedroom, because Savannah is still in there, and she will feel it the second my energy enters the room. She will read danger in my stance. She will brace. So I have to enter like a man who keeps promises, not like a man who brings fear.
* * *
I open the door quietly.
Savannah is sitting up in bed now, blanket pulled to her chest like armor. Her eyes snap to mine. “What,” she whispers immediately.
“We’re leaving,” I say, voice low.
Her face goes pale. “Leaving.”
“Yes. Tonight. For safety.”
“That feels like,” she starts, and stops, eyes flashing, because she is thinking the same thing I am. Capture. Removal. Being taken.
“I know what it feels like,” I say. “So you get the choice.”
Her breath shakes. “What choice.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, keeping distance. “Choice one. We move to a safe property outside the city for forty eight hours. Quiet. No visitors. Only my people.” Her eyes narrow slightly, measuring.
“Choice two,” I continue, “we stay here and I double the perimeter, and I personally control every door and every man.”
Her breath quickens. “And the third,” she whispers, because she knows there is always a third.
I hold her gaze. “Choice three. You tell me what you want, and I make it happen if it’s safe.”
Her fingers clutch the pendant. “Romano called.”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Cassio is involved.”
“Yes.”
She closes her eyes for one beat like she is trying not to fall apart. When she opens them, they are angry, not helpless.
“What do they want.”
I tell her the truth. “They want you in church. As a performance. As proof.”
Her face tightens. “No.”
“No,” I agree.
Her breath shakes, then she whispers something that makes my chest tighten. “They don’t get to have my sentence.”
“They don’t .”
She swallows hard. Her voice is small but clear. “Then we leave.”
Choice made.
I nod once. “Okay.”
She lifts her chin slightly. “And Gabriel.”
I wait.
She touches her pendant, then she says it, not rehearsed, not in public, just to me. “I chose this.”
My blood heats. My chest tightens.
“Good,” I murmur.
This time she doesn’t glare. She just exhales shakily, holding the sentence the way she holds the pendant, like it’s hers.
And if Romano wants it, he is going to have to pry it out of a woman who finally learned how to say no.