Chapter 2 - Shadows in Lenox HillBy 4:30 a.m., Lenox Hill Hospital had been effectively locked down by Moretti’s private security detail. Local precinct police officers arrived, but upon seeing Vincent Kane flashing federal-level clearance and corporate legal protection documents, they wisely stepped back, deferring jurisdiction to the syndicate’s internal interrogation protocols.
Down in the deserted basement maintenance corridor, the captured assassin—a bruised, heavy-set hitman wearing a black courier jacket—was tied securely to a steel chair.
Gabriel stood in front of him, his overcoat removed, sleeves rolled up to reveal thick forearms corded with muscle and old scars. Vincent stood beside him, holding a heavy titanium wrench.
"Who hired you?" Gabriel asked. His voice wasn't loud. It carried the terrifying, dead calm of an executioner before the drop.
The hitman spat a glob of blood onto the concrete floor. "Go to hell, Moretti. You think you own the city, but the Brooklyn families are—"
Crack.
Vincent didn't wait for permission. The heavy wrench connected with the hitman’s shoulder, a sickening sound echoing off the concrete walls as the man screamed in agony.
"Let’s try that again," Gabriel said, leaning down so his face was inches from the shivering assassin. "My son has a heart condition. Someone inside this hospital gave you his room number. Someone disabled the hallway security feed at precisely 2:14 a.m. Was it a nurse? A resident? Or did my own security chief have a lapse in judgment?"
The hitman gasped for air, his eyes wide with stark terror as he looked into Gabriel’s unblinking dark gaze. "It... it wasn't Brooklyn! It was internal! A man named Salvatore... he works your financial ledger! He took Moretti money to clear the pediatric wing blind spots!"
Gabriel straightened up slowly. Salvatore. A mid-level accountant who had handled lower-tier logistics for the Moretti family shipping ports for five years. A man Gabriel had trusted with numbers, believing greed was something he could easily manage with a higher paycheck.
"Vincent," Gabriel said coldly, buttoning his cuffs. "Find Salvatore. Bring him to the Brooklyn warehouse. Do it quietly."
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"And the hitman?" Vincent asked, glancing down at the trembling man.
"Drop him outside the One Police Plaza front steps," Gabriel replied without a backward glance. "Let the city cops have what’s left of him. It’ll send a message to anyone else thinking of testing my blood."
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