Chapter 7 - THE CLEANUP AND THE CROWN
By sunrise, the rain had washed the soot from the stone driveway of the Westchester estate.
A fleet of unmarked black vans had arrived and departed, clearing away the evidence of the night's battle with the quiet efficiency of Gabriel's vast organization. To the outside world, the gunfight in Westchester was just a rumor, suppressed by local authorities who knew better than to investigate the Cross family grounds.
In the master dining room, the morning sun poured through the high arched windows.
Leo, Julian, and Sam were sitting at the long mahogany table, happily devouring waffles covered in strawberries and whipped cream, oblivious to the fact that fifty heavily armed men had tried to take their lives six hours earlier. Mrs. Gable stood nearby, beaming as she refilled their orange juice glasses.
I sat at the head of the table, sipping hot tea, wearing one of Gabriel’s oversized silk robes over my clothes.
Gabriel walked into the room. He had showered, shaved, and dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark trousers. His shoulder was bandaged beneath his shirt, but his movements were smooth and powerful once more.
He walked up behind my chair, resting his hands gently on my shoulders, leaning down to press a kiss against the crown of my head.
"How are they?" Gabriel asked softly.
"They think it was a loud thunderstorm," I replied, covering his hand with mine. "They're resilient."
"They're Crosses," Gabriel said, a quiet pride in his deep voice.
He walked over to the side of the table, pulling out a chair next to Leo. "Good morning, boys."
"Morning, Dad!" Julian chirped, his face covered in maple syrup. "Can we go see the horses today?"
Gabriel’s eyes lit up. "We have horses?"
"In the back stable," I reminded him with a small smile. "You bought three thoroughbreds six years ago."
"Then yes," Gabriel promised his son, ruffling his dark curls. "We will go see the horses today."
Marco stepped into the dining room, holding an encrypted tablet. He looked at Gabriel with a grave expression. "Boss. We have a location on Dante Moretti. He's at his private estate in Greenwich. He didn't flee back to Chicago after the assault failed."
Gabriel’s posture stiffened instantly. The warm father vanished, replaced by the lethal monarch of Manhattan.
"He's waiting to see if his hit squad succeeded," Gabriel concluded coldly.
"Shall I mobilize the captains?" Marco asked.
"No," I spoke up, standing from my chair.
Gabriel turned to look at me, his eyebrows pulling together. "Claire, this is business that must be concluded."
"I know it has to be concluded, Gabriel," I said, walking over to stand beside him, looking him straight in the eye. "But you're not going alone. And you're not going as a mobster looking for a street war."
Gabriel frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Dante Moretti attacked this house because he thought you were weak, because he thought you were caught off guard," I explained, my voice steady and firm. "You go to Greenwich, and you show him that you are stronger than ever. You use the law, you use the federal indictments you've been holding over his logistics companies for three years, and you crush him completely."
Gabriel stared at me, a look of profound astonishment slowly spreading across his face.
For five years, he had tried to protect me from his dark world by hiding me away. He had forgotten that I was the woman who had stood beside him for seven years, the woman who understood his power better than anyone else.
A slow, dangerous smile curved Gabriel’s lips. "You really are my queen, aren't you?"
"I never stopped being your queen, Gabriel," I said softly. "You just forgot to keep me by your side."
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Gabriel took my face in his hands, kissing me deeply in front of the kids and Mrs. Gable.
"Marco," Gabriel ordered, his voice echoing with absolute command. "Prepare the legal portfolio and call the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Tell Special Agent Vance that Gabriel Cross is ready to hand him Dante Moretti on a silver platter."
