Chapter 8 - The Serpent's Last Breath
The master bedroom door blew inward with a violent kick.
Vanessa stepped inside, her chest heaving, the silver gun held with two shaking hands. Her eyes scanned the king-sized bed, seeing the crumpled blankets.
"Rachel!" she screamed, her voice cracking with hysteria. "Come out, you worthless little rat! You ruined my life! I was going to be the queen of this city! I was going to own everything Gabriel had!"
She took two steps toward the closet.
"Do you hear me, Rachel?! Your pathetic husband died screaming in a ditch, and now you and your brat are going to join him!"
As she crossed the threshold into the dressing room, I didn't hesitate.
I swung the ten-pound steel fire extinguisher with every ounce of rage, grief, and maternal fury that had built up inside me over nine months of degradation.
The heavy cylinder caught her squarely across the wrists.
The gun fired once—the bullet burying harmlessly into the ceiling plaster—before flying out of her grasp and skittering across the polished parquet floor. Vanessa shrieked in pain, collapsing to her knees, clutching her fractured right arm.
I kicked the gun under a heavy armoire, then stood over her, breathing heavily, the extinguisher raised above my head.
Vanessa looked up at me, her face contorted with pure venom. "You stupid peasant... you think Gabriel cares about you? You're just a charity case! He's going to throw you back into the gutter once this is over!"
"Gabriel knows what honor is," I said through gritted teeth. "You and your father only know how to steal."
A heavy shadow fell across the bedroom doorway.
Gabriel stood there. His tactical vest was dusted with pulverized stone, his left arm bearing a shallow graze of blood, his rifle lowered. Behind him stood Marcus, holding Don Moretti himself by the scruff of his collar—the elderly, arrogant crime boss now handcuffed, bleeding from the temple, his expensive tailored suit shredded.
Vanessa froze. "Daddy...?"
Don Moretti didn't answer his daughter. He was staring at Gabriel with the hollow, defeated eyes of a man who knew his bloodline had reached its absolute end.
"The Commission reviewed Daniel’s ledger forty minutes ago, Moretti," Gabriel said, his voice flat, emotionless, and final. "Your bank accounts have been seized. Your territory in northern Jersey has been absorbed. And your entire syndicate has been officially declared dead."
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Gabriel stepped into the closet room. He looked at Vanessa huddled on the floor, then looked up at me, taking the heavy fire extinguisher from my trembling hands and setting it gently aside.
"Rachel," he murmured, his gaze softening completely. "You're safe."
