They Shot a Pregnant Woman at a Gas Station, Unaware the Quiet Man at Pump Six Had Seen Everything

“Drop your weapons,” Gabriel commanded softly.

The eight Blackridge guards looked at the red laser dots on their chests, looked at the twenty Moretti tactical operators surrounding them, and immediately laid their rifles onto the concrete floor, raising their hands.

Only Pike remained standing, his shotgun trembling in his grip.

“Vance will destroy you, Moretti!” Pike screamed, sweat dripping down his neck. “He owns the state police! He owns the judges!”

“Vance is currently being arrested at his estate in Raleigh,” Gabriel revealed, pulling a sleek tablet from his coat pocket. “An hour ago, my legal team transmitted the complete contents of Mercer’s encrypted hard drives directly to the Special Investigations Division of the FBI in Washington. They cross-referenced the kickbacks ten minutes ago.”

Pike’s hands shook so violently the shotgun nearly slipped from his fingers. “You... you sent it to the feds?”

“Every single file,” Gabriel said. “The state police can't protect you now, Nolan. You’re done.”

Pike let out a desperate, feral roar, swinging his shotgun toward Gabriel’s chest.

Pfft.

A single suppressed shot echoed from the upper rafters.

The high-caliber round struck Pike’s right hand, shattering the weapon and spinning him around. He hit the concrete floor with a heavy groan, clutching his bloody wrist, screaming in pain.

Gabriel walked over smoothly, kicking the broken shotgun away from Pike’s reach.

He looked down at the bleeding fixer with cold indifference. “You left a pregnant woman to die on the concrete at pump four. You don't get a quick exit.”