2. Gabriel

2

GAbrIEL

T he sight of one of Igor's men grabbing Bella to haul her up from the floor, seeing her flinch as he touches her, makes my blood run cold and then hot, fury coursing through me. I clench my fists, nails biting into my palms as I hold myself still, my thoughts racing.

I can see everything that she and I have worked towards together disappearing, as yet another man lays rough hands on her. All of those moments where I helped her replace her fear and trauma with new memories—memories of gasping breaths and gently roving hands, of longing and pleasure and giving as much as we both took—all of those moments are being wiped away, as Bella is flung back into what she tried to heal from.

I can't let myself begin to imagine what Igor will do to her. If I do, I'll lash out, and everyone around me will suffer.

I have to be patient. I have to be calm, and strategic, in the face of what I always feared might happen one day, and never truly believed would. Bella trusts me to try to get her free. And whatever Igor does to her, I'll help her heal from that, too. I'll never let her suffer, if I can help it.

I watch her go, my chest aching, teeth clenched so hard my jaw hurts. I wait for the moment when Igor orders us all killed anyway, because I don't trust him, either. I don't believe that Bella will be enough. But I understand why she's doing this—this was a losing game. If she didn't go, we would all die, except for her. And he would take her, regardless.

I just couldn't bear to be the one to turn her over.

Every muscle in my body goes slack for a moment, when Igor orders his men to follow him, instead. I turn immediately, helping Agnes up from the floor, one arm around the elderly woman's waist, as I get her back into a chair. Her lip is split, where one of the men hit her, and fresh rage burns through me.

"Don't worry about me." She pushes ineffectually at my chest, her voice wavering slightly. "Get the children."

Cecelia is already out of her chair, running towards me. She wraps her arms around my waist, and I pick her up, one hand cupped behind her head as I press her face into my shoulder and hold her. She's shaking and crying, and I smooth her hair with my hand, crooning words to her that I don't even realize I'm saying. Trying to calm her.

"Bella—" She sniffles. "Is Bella going to be okay?"

I swallow hard, glancing over at Danny, who is still balled up on the chair, his arms wrapped around his knees and forehead pressed hard against them, as if he can hide from everything happening around him. As if not seeing it will make it all go away. My heart wrenches in my chest, seeing my son like this, and I go to him, gently putting a hand on his shoulder as I hold Cecelia with my other arm.

Danny jumps, crying out.

"It's alright. It's just me." I rub a circle on his back with my hand, glancing over at Agnes, who is slowly getting up.

"Dad. Is Bella going to be okay?" Cecelia asks again, more stridently, and I don't know what to say. I don't want to lie to my daughter, and yet—I can't begin to process the idea of telling her the truth. That Bella will almost certainly not be okay. That, if she survives whatever Igor has planned for her, she very well might wish that she hadn't.

That I don't know if I can save her, without putting my family in danger.

"I don't know," I say quietly, choosing something in between. Not a lie, but not wholly the truth, either. "But I need to leave you here with Agnes for a little while, okay? She's going to take you upstairs and get you cleaned up. I need to go find Aldo, and check on a few things."

"No—" Cecelia buries her face in my shoulder again, another sob wracking her narrow shoulders. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Nothing will," I promise her, feeling secure in being able to say that, at least. "I'll be back before you know it."

Cecelia clings to me, but she lets go when I set her down. Agnes wraps her arms around the girl, holding her as she looks at me.

"Are you going to be alright, here with them?" I ask quietly. I don't think Agnes sustained any major injuries, but I also don't know what the shock might have done to her. I'm fairly sure she's never had to deal with anything like this before.

"I'll be fine," Agnes says firmly. "Just—find Aldo, will you?" There's worry shining in her eyes, the creases around them deeper than usual, and I can tell she's worried. More than worried, probably, for the husband she adores and who adores her, but she's trying not to let on, for Cecelia and Danny. "Get him back up here, so I know he's safe. And I'll keep them safe, while you're gone."

There's nothing she could do, of course, if the Bratva came back. But I feel sure that they won't, now that Igor has Bella. She's what he wanted, and there's no reason for him to return to do further violence to my family. Not unless I were to go after her.

Don't think about that right now. I can do nothing about Bella at this moment. So I wait until I see Agnes and the children make it to the stairs, and then I head out of the back door, out to the property to track down my security.

I find Aldo in the old landscaping shed, further back. He's sitting on a stool in the back corner, white-faced, his hands knotted in his lap. He nearly jumps out of his skin when I push the door open, looking at me with alarm, the moment before he realizes that it's me.

"Gabriel." He breathes my name, relief coloring the word. "Where's Agnes? Is she safe? I heard gunfire, saw men going past, and I wasn't sure I could get up to the house. Not without?—"

I see shame in the back of his eyes, behind his worry, and I give him a reassuring look. "You did the right thing," I tell him. "Agnes is safe. The Bratva have left. And I'm going to get you both, and my family, out of here. I just need to find out where the rest of my men are, first."

Aldo nods, swallowing hard. I know what he's thinking—that he should have done something. That he should have gone after those men, or up to the house. But I meant it when I said he made the right choice. Aldo is an old man, a groundskeeper, not a fighter. If I was outmatched by the number of men Igor brought with him, Aldo certainly would be. He would have been in danger, or killed.

"Agnes will be glad you're safe," I tell him. "She's worried about you. If you go on up to the house, she should be upstairs with the children. Go let her know you're alright."

Aldo nods again, walking past me slowly, almost haltingly, as if the past hour has aged him. I feel as if it's aged me . As if I can feel the anger and fear and that horrible sense of helplessness eating away at me, down to my bones.

I step out of the shed, continuing further down the path through the estate.

It's not long before I find my security. I find the first body sprawled out, the bloody grass still wet around him. Another is nearby. And I find the other three, dead as well. All shot, all with Bratva bullets riddling their bodies. Rage courses through me, my hands curling into fists as I stare at them.

The desire to make the Bratva pay throbs through my veins, ceaseless and demanding. The desire to go after Bella is mixed up in it, the knowledge that even one night under Igor's control might mean things happening to her that she should never have to endure, that she'll never recover from.

But I have to make sure my family is safe, first.

I have contacts that I've never needed to call before, favors that I've never needed to use. I call in one of them now, needing a cleaner to come and deal with the bodies on my property. It's not something I have experience in, but I know people who do. And right now, more than anything, I need to get back to my children.

Agnes and Aldo are at the foot of the stairs when I walk back in, talking quietly with each other. They look up as I walk in, and I can see that Agnes is still pale, her face more pinched than usual. She looks frail, and my chest contracts, the need to protect her—to protect all of them welling up in me.

She's been with my family my whole life. They both have. I have to get them, and my children, to safety before I do anything else.

"Go collect whatever you need for a long trip." I glance between the two of them. "I'm getting all of us out of here."

Agnes' eyes widen. "And where, exactly, are we going, Gabriel?"

There's that grandmotherly tone to her voice. Her eyes narrow, and I let out a breath.

"We're going to the family estate. In Italy. I had business there anyway. It'll be safe until things calm down. And—" I shove my hands into my pockets, sucking on my teeth as I try to calm myself. "It will be good for Cecelia and Danny to see where they come from."

"You're not leaving without Bella, are you?" Agnes looks aghast at the idea, and I rock on my heels, trying to calmly explain. I still feel as if adrenaline is crashing through me, as if I need to move, to do something, and it's taking everything in me to do all of this in a measured, careful fashion. "You can't leave her with them, Gabriel."

"I won't. But I have to make sure you all are safe. Which means you can't stay here. I'm going to go and talk to her father, but in the meantime, I'm getting you all to a well-secured hotel. Once I've figured out what to do about Bella, we'll leave."

Agnes looks mollified by that. "I'll go upstairs and start packing their things," she says, and I shake my head.

"I'll do it. I want to check in on them, anyway. And you need to rest. Aldo, the two of you go sit down. I'll come down and find you shortly."

Agnes looks like she wants to argue—she's never been able to admit when she needs a break—but Aldo murmurs something quietly to her, and she allows him to lead her to the living room. I take the steps two at a time, hurrying up to Danny's room.

He and Cecelia are both in there. Danny is pushing a toy car back and forth on a track, intent on it as if it's the only thing keeping him from falling apart. It very well might be. Cecelia is holding her doll—not the one she wanted so badly, but the dark-haired one in the Victorian dress that Bella told her she loved.

"What's going on?" Cecelia asks as she looks up at me, clearly picking up on the agitated look on my face. I try to smooth it, not wanting to frighten either of them, but it's impossible to make everything as alright as I would like it to be. The whole house is in a state of tense agitation, waiting for what happens next.

"We're going on a trip," I tell her calmly. "We'll be gone for a little while, so whatever you want, you should pack. Clothes, your dolls, their clothes—you can bring as much as you want. I'll help Danny pack, and then I'll come check on you, okay?"

Cecelia presses her lips together, chewing on the lower one, her eyes wide. "Where is Agnes?"

"She's downstairs with Aldo, resting. It's been a long day. But she's coming with us, too."

"And Bella?" Cecelia gives me a narrow look, as if she suspects that the answer might not be what she wants. And once again, I can't bring myself to lie to her.

I hate that she's grown up so much, in a matter of hours. That ugly parts of the world have been revealed to her that she might never have known about otherwise. That something has happened to her now, today, that will stick with her forever.

"I'm going to do my best to make sure she comes with us," I tell Cecelia quietly. Next to her, Danny stops pushing his car. He doesn't look up at me, and my heart wrenches in my chest.

I can see how much Bella means to them. How smoothly and perfectly she's integrated herself into their lives, into all of ours, in the brief time that she's been here.

I can't allow Igor to harm her.

Cecelia nods, pushing herself up from the floor and past me, out into the hall to go to her room. I get a suitcase out of Danny's closet, setting it on the dark blue duvet of his bed. I open it and start to move around the room, taking items out of drawers and asking him if he wants them. He nods a few times without looking, before I finally set a pile of shirts down, and kneel down next to him.

"Danny?"

"I was scared." He pushes the car again. "I wanted to be brave. Like Batman." He picks up the toy action figure next to the car, and drops it. "But I was scared."

"Oh, Danny." I wrap an arm around him, pulling him into my chest. "Batman is a grown-up. You don't have to be brave like that. I'm the one who is brave for you. Okay? That's why we're leaving for a little while, as much as I'd like to stay here. So that you and your sister, and Agnes and Aldo, can be safe."

He nods, sniffling again. "And Bella?"

Danny is very young. Too young to tell the truth to in this instance, I think. Cecelia is old enough to know if I lie to her, but with the frail shape of my son in my arms, crying because he couldn't do more to protect the people he loves, I simply nod.

"And Bella," I promise.

I'm going to do my damndest to keep that promise, before we leave.

—

I get the children, Agnes, and Aldo to the hotel before I go to Masseo's mansion. The hotel I've chosen is one with an upper set of floors accessible only by keycards, with a separate elevator and security guarding the entrances to go in, checking keycards of anyone who wants access. I get a suite of rooms—one for the children and me, one for Agnes and Aldo, separated by a large living area where they can relax and play. I leave them there, with instructions to order room service if they get hungry and not to leave the room, and then head back down to where Jason is waiting for me. He was meant to be off today, and I'm glad, because it meant he wasn't there when the attack happened. He answered as soon as I called, and now he's sitting, tense and pale, in the driver's seat as I give him instructions to go to Masseo D'Amelio's home.

He stays silent on the drive over, and I don't blame him. My household has never been one where there's a constant threat of danger, where there's always the possibility of violence or retribution. I've been meticulous in my business dealings, to keep from forging connections where rivalries could come back to bite me. I've remained neutral, working with a number of different organizations, always sticking to business and nothing more.

It shouldn't be surprising that the one time I allowed it to become personal, when I ignored my instincts and my better judgment and forged ahead anyway because I wanted , things have come unraveled.

And yet, remembering that moment when Bella ran into me in the hallway, that first moment that I met her, disheveled and tear-stained, I can't regret any of it. Not when so many memories followed of her happy, thriving, healing from her past even before we became more than just a boss and his employee.

That day, she was running away from her father. Away from his demands and his insistence that she be the daughter he expected her to be, whether or not it was what was best for her.

I helped save her from that. And now, Masseo D'Amelio is going to repay that by helping me save his daughter again.

He's in his office, as expected. I stride down the hall, pushing open the heavy wooden door, and find him sitting behind his mahogany desk, mulling over several sheets of paper. From this distance, it looks like a contract. Probably some business arrangement, but right now, I couldn't care less what's written on it.

"Masseo." My voice cuts across the room as I let the door slam shut, and he looks up abruptly.

"Mr. Esposito." After our last encounter, the formal address doesn't surprise me. Nor does the frosty tone of his voice. We're still business partners, but only that. Whatever friendship we had has long since eroded in the wake of my gradual discoveries about his treatment of his daughter. His lack of care for her. "I'm very sure that we don't have an appointment. And as you recently said to me, I'd prefer you not visit without one?—"

"Bella's been taken," I say flatly, approaching his desk and not bothering to sit down. "Igor Lasilov stormed my house earlier today, threatened my family, and took her with him."

To his credit, Masseo's face goes pale a little. He sits back in his chair, regarding me warily. "I appreciate you coming to inform me of my daughter's whereabouts?—"

"I'm here to make a plan to get her back. And to find out how many of your men you can spare to do it."

As many as I need should be the answer. But Masseo has always been willing to sell Bella to the highest bidder. What I'm not certain of is what he's willing to risk to get her back. To keep her safe.

Masseo's eyes widen a fraction. "You think either of us can go up against Igor Lasilov, and live to tell the tale?"

Nothing.

That's what he's willing to risk. Rage flares in my veins, and I can feel my hands closing into fists. "She's your daughter," I growl. "You know as well as I do what he will do to her. You're willing to leave her in his hands—for what? Your assured safety?"

Masseo's lips thin. It's clear he's displeased that I'm continuing to argue the point. "You have a family, Mr. Esposito. I believe you hired my daughter to help care for that family. At least—that was your pretense for hiring her. But considering the fact that I've seen no recent deposits into my accounts for her work, and considering your reaction to my coming to see her in your home—it's occurred to me that perhaps my daughter is more to you than just a nanny for your children." His mouth twitches, his hands folding tightly together on his desk. "In which case, Mr. Esposito, I feel I need to inquire after my daughter's—innocence, shall we say. Because it seems to me that rather than encouraging her to fill the role that she's meant to, as you first indicated you thought this job might accomplish, you've been instead undermining me."

The rage I feel as I look at him is concerning.

Overwhelming.

Until today, the only time I've truly wanted to do violence to a man was when Bella told me about what Pyotr Lasilov and his men did to her. But today, I've felt that same compulsion again and again.

Towards Igor.

Towards the men holding guns on my children, and Bella, and Agnes.

And now, towards Bella's father.

I lunge forward before I can stop myself, across the desk, my hand fisting in the front of his shirt. I feel a button give way as I yank him up, out of his chair and into his desk, my fist pressing against the meat of his throat.

"Bella is your daughter," I growl, my face an inch from his. "What my relationship to her was, or is, or might be, doesn't fucking matter. What matters is that the pakhan of the fucking Bratva took her away with him, blatantly saying out- fucking -loud that he was there to take her for retribution over what happened to his son. An occurrence that happened because you agreed to sell her to them as a bride?—"

"They paid for her," Masseo wheezes. "Or rather, Salvatore paid what they should have, before the wedding. So as I see it?—"

I flex my arm, jerking him across the desk, ignoring his cry of pain. Masseo tries to fight, but I'm stronger than he is, and I yank him over the desk and fling him to the floor, one foot settling atop his hand.

"Scream for your guards if you want," I tell him flatly. "But I'll break your hand before they get here. Who knows what else I can do in that amount of time? We can find out together."

I settle some of my weight onto that foot, grinding my shoe down into the bones of his hand, and Masseo lets out a choked sound.

"The way I see it," I continue, "is that you're a worthless piece of shit, Masseo. Under my shoe, in this moment, as you should be. Your daughter is in danger. The best thing that will happen to her, under Igor's roof, is death." It takes effort to keep my voice even, flat, with only anger showing through. The thought of Bella being harmed, tortured, killed makes me want to come unraveled. But I can't help her like that.

"No one goes up against Igor Lasilov," Masseo starts to say, and I snort.

"Please. The don went up against him, and murdered two dozen of his men, and his son. That's how you got Bella back in the first place. And he won't expect this, because he knows I don't have the men for it, and he knows you're a coward. But what he doesn't know is that I'm willing to kill for the people who mean something to me. I've kept that under lock and key all these years, so that men like Igor wouldn't see me as a threat. Just someone to do business with, to trade gems and drugs and arms for cash. But I will . And unless you help me get your daughter back, I'll start with you."

I can feel the bones of his hand starting to give way under my foot. Masseo lets out a helpless whimper, and he nods, his eyes glossy with pain.

"Fine. Fine! But you take the men I give you and go. Make a plan with them. I won't have any part in making an attack on Igor Lasilov's home." He squirms on the floor, looking up at me, and I see the fear in his eyes.

It makes me wonder what kind of woman Bella's mother must have been. She didn't get her steel spine from her father, that's for sure.

"Your daughter is twice the man you are." I step off of his hand, and he sits up, cradling it to his chest. "Call however many of your men you can afford to spare. I expect seven, at the very least. Tell them to meet me at this address." I toss a business card with the hotel's name and address emblazoned on it at his feet. "I expect to see them there by this evening."

And then I stalk out, without another word.