Chapter 4 - The Mark on the Wrist
Gabriel halted in the middle of the room. His hand gently caught Mia’s wrist, lifting the frayed sleeve of her cream cardigan.
The marks were fresh. Four finger-shaped impressions pressed deeply into her pale skin, along with a darker patch where a thumb had dug into the bone. This wasn't the clumsy grip of a mother trying to hurry her child across a street. This was the violent, crushing grip of a grown man.
"Who did this?" Gabriel asked. His tone didn't rise, but Marco, standing at the door, felt a chill run down his spine.
Mia pulled her hand back slightly, looking down at her scuffed sneakers. "A man came to the apartment before I ran away. He had a gold tooth. He kicked the door open while Mommy was resting on the mattress."
"What did he say?"
"He said Mr. Sterling told him to clear the trash," Mia whispered, her hazel eyes watering for the first time. "He said if we weren't out by midnight, he would throw Mommy out the window. Mommy tried to fight him, but she was too weak from the fever. She told me to take the paper and run to the big glass building with the black cars."
Gabriel’s jaw set like granite. "His name is Silas," Gabriel muttered to himself. Silas was Sterling’s personal street enforcer—a predatory thug Sterling used to harass dockworkers and intimidate tenants in his tenement slums.
Gabriel looked at Marco. "Call Dr. Evans. Have him bring a pediatric trauma kit and IV fluids. Meet us at Elena's apartment on Tenth Avenue."
"Boss," Marco hesitated, stepping forward. "Tenth Avenue is currently controlled by the Carroway faction. If we roll up with three black SUVs into their territory unannounced, it breaks the ceasefire."
"Then break it," Gabriel snapped, his eyes flashing dangerous fire. "If a single hair on Elena Miller's head is damaged, I will burn Tenth Avenue from the river to the tracks."
Gabriel wrapped his thick cashmere coat around Mia, tucking the girl against his chest. He grabbed the platinum watch and the crumpled slip of paper, stuffing them into his breast pocket.
As they walked out of the private executive suite and through the marble-clad lobby of the grand building, patrons and security guards parted like the Red Sea. Nobody dared make eye contact with Gabriel Vance when his gait was this swift, his presence this suffocating.
They reached the armored black Maybach waiting under the portico. The rain had started to fall, slicking the asphalt with neon reflections. Gabriel strapped Mia securely into the back leather seat.
"Are we going to save Mommy now?" Mia asked, holding tight to the seatbelt strap.
May you like
Gabriel shut the heavy door, climbed in beside her, and pulled his sidearm from under his coat, racking the slide with a crisp, lethal click.
"Yes, little one," Gabriel said. "And we are going to teach the monsters why they should have stayed in the dark."
