Chapter 4 - The Strike BackBy noon the next day, the storm over Manhattan had cleared, leaving behind a crisp, brilliant autumn sky. But inside the cavernous abandoned dry-dock warehouse in Red Hook, Brooklyn, the atmosphere was pitch black.
Salvatore—sweating profusely, his expensive Italian suit stained with dirt and fear—was tied to a wooden chair in the center of the concrete floor. Around him stood a dozen of Gabriel’s most elite enforcers.
Gabriel stepped out from the shadows, his heavy leather boots clicking rhythmically against the concrete. He held a thick manila folder in his hand.
"Salvatore," Gabriel said softly, tossing the folder onto the accountant’s lap.
Salvatore looked down, trembling so violently the pages rustled. The documents detailed offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands, wire transfers originating from a rival Moretti offshoot, and the exact ledger entries proving he had sold Daniel’s medical schedule to the highest bidder.
"Boss... I can explain," Salvatore choked out, tears spilling over his cheeks. "They threatened my family! They said if I didn't give them the room number, my daughter—"
"Don't lie to me," Gabriel interrupted, his voice dropping an octave into a freezing whisper. "You didn't do it for family. You did it because you thought my empire was weakening, and you wanted to buy a seat at Moretti’s new table."
Gabriel drew his titanium-plated pistol, checking the slide with a crisp, mechanical click.
"You had access to my finances, my properties, and my son’s medical records," Gabriel said, raising the barrel until it rested squarely against Salvatore’s forehead. "You traded blood for numbers."
"Please, Gabriel! Have mercy!" Salvatore shrieked, closing his eyes tightly.
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"I built this family on loyalty," Gabriel said coldly. "And when the foundation rots, you don't patch it. You cut it out."
The gunshot echoed off the corrugated metal walls like thunder, silencing the Brooklyn warehouse forever.
