Chapter 6 - The Ledger is Balanced
The heavy iron door swung open with a hiss of released air.
The room beyond was hot, loud with the roar of vintage steam pipes, and lit by red emergency lamps.
Sitting on the floor near the far wall were fifteen terrified dockworkers, their hands bound with heavy yellow rope. Standing over them were three of Sal Rossi’s men, carrying short-barreled shotguns.
Before the guards could even turn around, Gabriel stepped through the hatch.
Two shots rang out in rapid succession—THWIP! THWIP!—from Gabriel’s suppressed firearm. The two guards crumpled to the floor instantly without making a sound.
The third guard dropped his weapon, throwing his hands into the air, his face pale with terror as he recognized the broad-shouldered man standing in the red light.
"G-Gabriel!" the guard squeaked. "We... we were just following Sal’s orders!"
"Quiet," Gabriel growled.
Nora rushed forward with a pair of trauma shears from her bag, quickly slicing through the ropes binding the dockworkers’ wrists. "Go!" she whispered urgently to the workers. "Out through the tunnel! Luca is waiting at the icehouse with transportation!"
The workers didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled through the iron hatch, disappearing into the dark tunnel as fast as their legs could carry them.
Above them, the heavy ceiling began to vibrate as shouting and boots echoed down the concrete staircase.
Sal Rossi was coming down.
Gabriel pulled Nora behind a massive cast-iron boiler unit, his body pressed tight against hers in the warm, dark shadow.
The heavy steel door at the top of the stairs burst open, and Sal Rossi walked into the boiler room, flanked by five armed men.
"Where are the hostages?!" Sal roared, looking at his two downed guards on the floor. "Search the room! They couldn't have gone far!"
Sal stepped deeper into the room, his revolver drawn, his eyes scanning the steam pipes.
"You always were impatient, Sal," Gabriel’s voice echoed through the boiler room, seemingly coming from everywhere at once.
Sal froze, his head snapping toward the dark row of boilers. "Gabriel?! Show yourself, you crippled bastard! You can't even walk without that chubby bitch holding your hand!"
From the shadows behind the main steam valve, Nora’s eyes narrowed.
She looked at the high-pressure release valve sitting directly above Sal Rossi’s head—a valve connected to a superheated steam line running at three hundred pounds per square inch.
She caught Gabriel’s eye across the dark space and gave him a tiny, precise nod.
Gabriel smiled dark and ruthless. "Hey, Sal."
Sal turned his gun toward Gabriel’s voice—
Nora slammed her heavy brass wrench down onto the manual pressure lever beside her.
PZZZZZZZZZZT!
A blinding, roaring wall of white, superheated steam exploded from the overhead pipe directly into the face of Sal Rossi and his five men.
The intense heat and deafening roar instantly disarmed them. They dropped their weapons, screaming and shielding their eyes as they stumbled backward into the blinding white mist.
Gabriel stepped out from the shadows like a demon rising from hell.
With three swift, brutal strikes, he neutralized the disoriented guards, knocking them unconscious before they even realized what had hit them.
When the steam cleared, Sal Rossi was on his knees, his face red and blistered, his revolver lying ten feet away on the wet concrete.
Gabriel stood over his father’s former friend, his face devoid of all mercy. He raised his weapon, pointing it directly between Sal’s eyes.
"Gabriel... please..." Sal wheezed, clutching his burned chest. "We... we built this family together..."
"You tried to murder me in my bed, Sal," Gabriel said, his voice as cold as the ice floating in the river outside. "And you insulted my wife."
Sal blinked through his tears. "Your... what?"
BANG.
The single gunshot echoed through the boiler room, then faded into silence.
Six Months LaterThe summer sun streamed through the stained-glass windows of St. Michael’s Cathedral in downtown Chicago.
The church was filled to capacity with three hundred guests—dock captains, city council members, international shipping executives, and every reformed member of the Moretti organization, all wearing crisp black suits with white rose boutonnieres.
At the altar stood Gabriel Moretti.
He looked magnificent. His dark hair was styled, his face clean-shaven, his tux tailored to perfection over his massive frame. He stood upright, strong, completely free of any cane or support, his shoulders broad and proud.
Beside him stood Luca Ferraro, wearing a handsome suit and serving as the best man, holding two platinum wedding bands.
The heavy organ pipes began to play a soft, beautiful rendition of Canon in D.
The heavy oak doors at the back of the cathedral opened.
A collective gasp ran through the congregation.
Nora Bennett walked down the white silk aisle.
She wore an off-the-shoulder gown of ivory satin that hugged her generous curves with breathtaking elegance. The fitted corset highlighted her waist, while the rich silk skirt flowed around her hips like a waterfall of light. Her dark hair fell in soft, voluminous waves around her face, adorned with tiny white orchids.
She didn't look like a woman who had spent fifteen years hiding under oversized scrubs. She didn't look like a nurse who had been called fat, slow, or invisible.
She looked like a queen.
Gabriel’s breath hitched in his chest. His dark eyes filled with tears—real, warm tears that he didn't bother to wipe away—as he watched his bride walk toward him.
When she reached the altar, Gabriel stepped forward, taking both of her broad, soft hands into his own large, scarred palms. He leaned down, his voice barely a whisper meant only for her.
"You take my breath away, Mrs. Moretti," he murmured.
Nora smiled—a bright, dazzling smile that lit up the entire cathedral.
"I told you, Mr. Moretti," Nora whispered back, her brown eyes sparkling with deep, unbroken happiness. "I always finish my shift."
The priest smiled, raising his hands over the couple.
"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Gabriel, you may kiss your bride."
Gabriel didn't wait. He pulled Nora into his arms, lifting her off her feet as he brought his lips down to hers in a long, passionate kiss that brought the entire congregation to their feet in a deafening ovation.
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Outside the church, the Chicago skyline glittered under the clear blue sky.
The accounts were settled. The darkness was gone. And the chubby nurse who had found the scar nobody was supposed to see had finally found the place where she belonged forever.
