Chapter 6 - The Shadow War Begins
The Velvet Viper was Manhattan’s most exclusive underground gambling club—a sprawling, subterranean casino hidden beneath a five-star hotel near Central Park. It was Victor Vane’s crown jewel, generating tens of millions of dollars in illegal revenue every month.
At 5:30 AM, half an hour before sunrise, three black delivery trucks pulled into the alleyway behind the hotel.
Inside the rear truck, I sat checking the clip of my customized silver Colt .45 pistol. Beside me, fourteen elite operators from my private security division—all former special forces personnel—silently checked their suppressed short-barrel rifles and night-vision goggles.
Dante tapped his earpiece. “Building security system bypassed, Boss. Our hackers have looped the CCTV cameras. The floor guards are taking their shift change right now.”
I racked the slide of my pistol, chambering a round.
“No civilian casualties,” I instructed calmly. “Victor Vane’s personal lieutenants only. Clear the floor in three minutes.”
We moved like shadows.
The heavy steel rear door of the casino was cut open with a silent hydraulic tool in less than ten seconds. We poured through the service corridors, moving with fluid, terrifying precision.
The casino floor was nearly empty, save for a few high-stakes gamblers lingering at the roulette tables and a dozen suited enforcers patrolling the perimeter.
Pfft. Pfft. Pfft.
The sound of our suppressed weapons echoed softly through the vaulted room. Within forty seconds, all twelve of Vane’s floor guards collapsed onto the carpeted floor, neutralized with non-lethal lower-body shots or tranquilizer darts.
I strode through the center of the grand casino, my leather shoes making no sound against the thick crimson rug, straight toward the double mahogany doors of Victor Vane’s private office suite.
Dante kicked the heavy oak doors open with a thunderous bang.
Inside, Victor Vane—a broad-shouldered man in his fifties with slicked-back gray hair and a silk robe—sat at his desk, flanked by two armed bodyguards holding automatic pistols.
Before Vane’s guards could raise their barrels, Dante and three of my men fired simultaneously. Both bodyguards dropped their weapons, clutching their shattered elbows, groaning in pain as they slumped against the leather sofas.
Victor Vane froze, his hand hovering two inches above a panic button concealed beneath his desk drawer.
He looked up, meeting my eyes. The color drained from his face as he recognized the man standing in front of him.
“Gabriel… Cross?” Vane stammered, his voice trembling slightly despite his decades of underworld experience. “What the hell is the meaning of this? You’re attacking my club?”
I walked over to his desk, picked up his half-empty glass of crystal decanter scotch, poured myself a drink, and sat down in the leather armchair across from him.
“You lent forty million dollars to Hector Ross, Victor,” I said smoothly, taking a slow sip.
Vane blinked, trying to piece the puzzle together. “Hector? That pathetic old bastard? What does he have to do with you? He owes me money, Gabriel! His deadline was midnight!”
“Hector Ross is my father-in-law,” I said softly. “And last night, to collect the money he owed you, he and his eight sons beat my pregnant wife until she lost my child.”
Vane’s eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated terror. He pushed himself back into his leather executive chair, his hands flying up into the air.
“Gabriel… I swear to God, I didn’t know!” Vane pleaded frantically, sweat pouring down his forehead. “I just wanted my forty million back! I didn’t tell him to touch your wife! I didn’t even know she was your wife! He told me she was married to some soft corporate executive!”
I set the crystal glass down on his mahogany desk.
“Hector Ross no longer owns a single penny, Victor,” I informed him coldly. “His assets belong to my wife. His debt to you is now null and void.”
Vane swallowed hard. “Gabriel… forty million is a lot of money to lose—”
“You’re not losing forty million, Victor,” I interrupted, leaning forward until my face was inches from his. “You’re losing your entire business. By noon today, my teams will take control of your ports in New Jersey, your casinos in Connecticut, and your distribution routes in Atlantic City.”
Vane’s face twisted in desperate rage. “You can’t do that! The High Council won’t allow you to seize my territory without a vote!”
I pulled my phone from my pocket and tossed it onto his desk.
May you like
“Call the High Council,” I said softly. “Tell them Gabriel Cross is cleaning house. See if a single one of them takes your call.”
Vane stared at the phone, his hands trembling violently. He knew the truth. In this region, there was no High Council that could stand against the Cross empire. He had relied on Hector Ross to bring him quick cash, and instead, Hector had brought the Grim Reaper to his front door.
