Chapter 6 - The Trap is SprungThe master plan took forty-eight hours to execute with military precision.
To the rest of the underworld—and to whoever was secretly leaking information to the federal task force—it appeared as though the Falcone estate was descending into absolute civil war. Gabriel publicly placed me under house arrest in the basement security quarters, fueling rumors that I had been exposed as an informant. Meanwhile, Carmine and his enforcers publicly interrogated junior staff members, leaking fake schedules of our upcoming cocaine and weapons shipments through compromised communication channels.
Inside the underground command center, Gabriel and I sat over the glowing monitors, tracking every digital footprint, every phone call, and every suspicious financial transfer across the syndicate’s offshore accounts.
“It has to be someone with high-level clearance,” I pointed out, tapping a cluster of encrypted data files on the screen. “Someone who knew about Dante’s medical plot and had access to the secure recording equipment used to fabricate that fake federal wiretap.”
Gabriel leaned over my shoulder, his broad chest nearly brushing my back, his eyes scanning the logs. “Which narrows our suspect pool down to three surviving senior capos: Salvatore, Bruno, or Vincent.”
Suddenly, a sharp, flashing alert chimed on the secondary workstation.
ALERT: UNAUTHORIZED DOWNLOAD OF ENCRYPTED MASTER SAFE COMBINATIONS.
Gabriel and I locked eyes. The trap had sprung.
“Someone is trying to raid the master vault in the east wing right now,” Gabriel whispered, his voice dropping into a lethal register. He drew his pistol, checking the chamber with a crisp shing. “Stay behind me.”
We moved through the dark, echoing corridors of the estate like ghosts, our footsteps silenced by the thick Persian rugs. The mansion was dark, the storm outside howling against the reinforced glass windows.
As we approached the heavy oak doors of the east wing study, a faint sliver of yellow light spilled out from beneath the crack.
Gabriel signaled for me to stay back by the pillar. With a sudden, explosive kick, he slammed his boot against the heavy door, shattering the latch and sending it swinging wide open.
“Freeze!” Gabriel roared, raising his weapon.
Standing before the open wall safe, stuffing stacks of bearer bonds and encrypted flash drives into a leather briefcase, was Bruno—one of Gabriel’s oldest, most trusted capos, and the man who had supposedly led the security sweep after Dante’s arrest.
Bruno spun around, panic distorting his aging face. He frantically reached for the pistol resting on the mahogany desk.
“Don't even think about it, Bruno,” Gabriel warned, his voice dangerously low.
Bruno froze, his hands hovering over the desk, sweat pouring down his forehead. A broken, desperate laugh escaped his lips.
“You figured it out,” Bruno sneered, glaring at Gabriel before his eyes darted toward me standing in the doorway. “And you let the maid help you. Unbelievable, Gabriel. You’re letting a kitchen scrub run your empire.”
“You were the one feeding information to Dante,” Gabriel said, stepping slowly into the room, his gun never wavering from Bruno’s chest. “You helped him plant the industrial sutures in my shoulder so he could usurp my throne. And when Dante failed, you tried to frame Tessa using a fabricated federal wiretap to get her killed before she could expose you.”
“Dante was a fool!” Bruno shouted, his voice cracking with rage. “He lacked vision! The syndicate is rotting under your old-fashioned rules, Gabriel! The federal task force offered me immunity and a clean slate if I handed over the keys to the kingdom. I was just securing my future!”
“Your future ended the moment you betrayed this family,” Gabriel said coldly.
Bruno’s eyes darted toward the open window behind him. In a split-second act of sheer desperation, he grabbed the heavy brass lamp off the desk and hurled it straight at Gabriel’s face, diving blindly toward the glass.
Crash!
Gabriel deflected the lamp with his left arm, stepping forward and pulling the trigger in one fluid motion.
A single deafening gunshot echoed through the east wing.
Bruno let out a sharp gasp, his legs buckling beneath him as he collapsed hard onto the Persian rug, the briefcase spilling stolen bonds across the floor. He lay motionless, the dark pool of blood spreading slowly across the intricate red fibers.
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Gabriel lowered his smoking pistol, his chest heaving slightly, the adrenaline slowly fading from his frame. He exhaled a long breath, turning around to look at me standing safely in the doorway.
The traitor was dead. The leak was sealed. The war inside the Falcone family was finally over.
