Chapter 7 - THE PHOTOGRAPH
The crash was violent, but the airbags deployed instantly, filling the SUV with white powder and the smell of burnt rubber.
Anna gasped for air, her ears ringing from the impact.
She looked to her left. Lily was slumped against the window, unconscious, a small cut on her forehead. The gun had fallen from her grip.
Anna turned to her right. Gabriel was already moving. He kicked the shattered window of the back door, shattering the safety glass, and crawled out into the pouring rain.
He reached back in, grabbing Anna by the waist, and hauled her out onto the wet asphalt.
Marcus was groaning in the driver’s seat, pinned by the steering column.
Gabriel didn't hesitate. He reached through the broken window, grabbed Marcus by the collar, and slammed the accountant’s head against the steering wheel. Marcus went limp.
Gabriel turned to Anna, wiping blood from a cut on his own cheek.
“Is Lily okay?” he demanded over the sound of the rain.
“She’s breathing,” Anna said, checking her sister’s pulse. “She’s just knocked out.”
Gabriel reached into the SUV, grabbed the suppressed pistol from the floorboard, and tucked it into his waistband.
“We have to move,” Gabriel said, grabbing Anna’s hand. “Marcus’s men will be tracking this car. If we stay here, we’re dead.”
“We can’t just leave Lily!”
“I’m not leaving her,” Gabriel said. He pulled a burner phone from his coat pocket and dialed a number. “Russo’s dead, but I still have loyal men. I’m calling a clean-up crew to secure her and take her to a safehouse. But you and I have to go to the bank.”
“The bank? I thought you lied about the codes being there!”
“I did,” Gabriel said, pocketing the phone. “The codes aren't in a vault. But the man who knows where your father is hiding is waiting there.”
Answer one, open two.
Gabriel hadn't lied about the location, he had lied about the objective. He wasn't going to the bank to surrender money; he was going there to exact revenge on the man who had orchestrated this entire nightmare.
Ten minutes later, Gabriel and Anna were standing in the shadows of an alleyway across from the towering glass facade of the First Chicago Trust building.
The streets were eerily quiet. The rain had washed the city clean, but the tension in the air was suffocating.
Gabriel handed Anna the suppressed pistol.
“Do you know how to use this?” he asked softly.
Anna stared at the weapon. Her hands were shaking. “I’ve never fired a gun in my life.”
“You don't have to fire it,” Gabriel said, wrapping his large hands over hers, steadying her grip. “You just have to point it. And if someone comes through that door who isn't me, you pull the trigger. Do you understand?”
Anna looked up into his gray eyes. They were intense, fierce, and fiercely protective.
“I understand,” she whispered.
Gabriel nodded. He turned and slipped out of the alleyway, melting into the shadows as he approached the side entrance of the bank.
Anna waited.
Five minutes passed.
Ten minutes.
The silence was agonizing. She gripped the pistol so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Then, the heavy steel door of the side entrance creaked open.
Anna raised the gun, her heart hammering against her bruised ribs.
A figure stepped out into the alleyway.
It wasn't Gabriel.
It was a man in a dark trench coat, holding a leather briefcase. He looked frantic, constantly looking over his shoulder.
Anna stepped out of the shadows, aiming the gun directly at his chest.
“Stop right there,” Anna commanded, her voice surprisingly steady.
The man froze, dropping the briefcase. He slowly raised his hands.
As he stepped into the dim light of the streetlamp, Anna gasped.
The Reversal hit her so hard she almost dropped the gun.
It wasn't Vittorio Moretti.
It was Julian.
Serena’s brother. The man Gabriel had shot in the kneecap at the hotel.
But he wasn't limping. His leg was perfectly fine. There was no blood on his suit.
“You,” Anna breathed, staring at him in shock. “Gabriel shot you.”
Julian smiled, a cold, arrogant smirk.
“Blank rounds, sweetheart,” Julian said smoothly. “Gabriel is a very good actor. But he’s an even better director.”
Anna’s mind spun.
Blank rounds.
Gabriel had faked shooting Julian to convince Russo that Julian was a liability. He had orchestrated the entire confrontation in the hallway to flush the real mole out onto the roof.
“Where is Gabriel?” Anna demanded.
“He’s inside, dealing with my lovely sister,” Julian said, taking a slow step toward Anna. “And he sent me out here to clean up the loose ends.”
Julian reached inside his trench coat.
“Don't move!” Anna yelled, tightening her grip on the gun.
Julian didn't stop. He pulled out a small, silver revolver.
“You’re a brave waitress, Anna,” Julian sighed. “But you’re out of your depth.”
He raised the revolver.
Before he could pull the trigger, a hand reached out of the shadows behind Julian and clamped down on his wrist with bone-crushing force.
Julian screamed, dropping the revolver.
Gabriel stepped into the light, his face a mask of terrifying fury. He grabbed Julian by the collar and slammed him against the brick wall of the alleyway.
“I told you to wait by the car, Julian,” Gabriel snarled, pressing his forearm against Julian’s throat. “I didn't tell you to threaten her.”
Julian gasped for air, his arrogant smirk replaced by sheer terror. “Gabe, please! I was just doing what we agreed! I was securing the perimeter!”
Gabriel didn't release the pressure. He looked at Anna.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“No,” Anna said, lowering her gun, her entire body shaking with adrenaline.
Gabriel turned back to Julian. He reached into Julian’s coat pocket and pulled out a small, folded photograph.
He tossed it onto the wet pavement at Anna’s feet.
“Look at the picture, Anna,” Gabriel said.
Anna picked it up.
It was a surveillance photo of her father, sitting in a wheelchair in a brightly lit room. He looked confused, but he wasn't hurt. And standing behind him, wearing a white doctor’s coat, was Julian.
“Julian didn't just deliver the detonator tonight,” Gabriel explained, his voice deadly calm. “He orchestrated your father’s kidnapping. He used the old man’s engineering knowledge to wire the bombs in the basement. He was playing both sides. He sold me out to my father, and he sold my father out to the Commission.”
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Gabriel pressed harder against Julian’s throat.
“Where is he, Julian?” Gabriel demanded. “Where is her father?”
