Chapter 3 - The Price of Disobedience
The next forty minutes were a blur of antiseptic, bright halogen lights from Harris’s portable kit, and muted agony.
Ella bit down so hard on a folded leather strap Gabriel placed between her teeth that the wood creaked under her jaw. She didn't scream. Not once. Even as Harris injected the local anesthetic and began the grueling process of stitching the torn muscle tissue back together, she simply gripped Gabriel’s hand with such raw, desperate strength that her fingernails dug deep into his skin, drawing tiny beads of blood.
Gabriel didn't flinch. He sat on the edge of the couch beside her, his large hand cupping the side of her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheekbone, murmuring low, steady words of anchor against the storm.
“I’ve got you, Ella. Look at me. Just keep looking at me.”
And she did. Her wide, pale blue eyes locked onto his, drawing strength from his unyielding presence until the trembling finally began to subside.
By 10:30 PM, the stitching was finished, a sterile pressure bandage wrapped securely around her right thigh, and an intravenous saline line taped to her bruised arm, dripping slowly from a pole Harris had rigged to a mahogany bookshelf.
Ella had drifted into an exhausted, chemically induced sleep, her breathing finally deep and even.
Gabriel stood up from the couch, pulling his suit jacket back on. His shirt cuffs were stained with dried crimson—her blood.
He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the glittering rain-slicked grid of Chicago.
Leo stepped quietly into the office, closing the doors behind him.
“Harris says she’ll recover, boss,” Leo reported quietly. “The muscle damage is severe, but she’ll walk fine in a few weeks with physical therapy. As for her brother—we located Tyler Bennett. He’s locked in a motel room on the west side under guard by two of Barlowe’s enforcers.”
Gabriel didn't turn around. His reflection in the glass looked hard, chiseled from stone.
“And Marcus Barlowe?”
“Sitting in his private back room at the shipping warehouse on Pier 14,” Leo said. “Drinking scotch and bragging to his lieutenants about the message he sent to your office.”
Gabriel slowly turned his head. A dark, terrifying smile touched the corners of his mouth.
“Send a car for him, Leo.”
“Alive?” Leo asked, his voice steady.
“Bring him here,” Gabriel said softly. “I want him to see the office he thinks is open. And then I want him to explain to me why he decided to bleed a civilian on my hardwood floor.”
“Consider it done,” Leo nodded, turning toward the door.
“Wait,” Gabriel added.
May you like
Leo paused. “Boss?”
“Move Ella’s brother, Tyler, to the east wing guest suite. Put him in a clean room, give him a hot meal, and make sure he understands he’s safe.” Gabriel looked back toward the couch where Ella slept. “His sister paid his debt in full tonight with interest he didn't even know he owed.”
