Chapter 115
Third person's POV
Meanwhile, at the other end of the city, Marcus stood before floor-to-ceiling windows in his private club, surveying the illuminated cityscape below. He held a whiskey glass, a satisfied smile playing at his lips.
Felix entered, asking quietly: "The support we're sending Montague—only fifty men and one weapons shipment. Won't that be insufficient? If Russell actually wins—"
"Wins?" Marcus turned, eyes glinting with dangerous amusement. "Felix, you've been with me for years. Still so naive."
He walked to his desk and set down the glass. "Our goal was never to help Russell win, but to let him and Gabriel destroy each other."
Felix frowned. "You mean—"
"Russell's already lost his mind." Marcus settled into his chair, crossing his legs. "Grief has stripped away his rationality. He'll throw everything into this fight, consequences be damned. And Gabriel? He's smart, but facing Montague's full assault, he'll have to commit completely too."
His gaze hardened. "When they've bled each other dry, depleted their forces and emptied their arsenals, I'll sweep in and absorb what's left of Montague while crippling Sullivan. By then, this city's underworld will belong to me."
Felix nodded. "And Olivia? She thinks she'll become Montague's new head."
Marcus laughed coldly, devoid of warmth. "She thinks we're partners when she's just another piece on my board. When Montague's gutted, her 'leadership' will be an empty shell. At that point, she'll either obey or—"
He left the threat hanging in the air.
Felix understood. "If Gabriel gets caught off-guard? If Russell actually succeeds—"
"Even better." Marcus picked up his glass. "If Gabriel dies, Sullivan will collapse into chaos. I can absorb them directly. If Russell dies, Olivia will depend on me completely. Either way, I win."
He sipped his whiskey, eyes calculating. "But prepare our forces anyway. Have our best teams on standby. If the battle shifts, we intervene immediately to ensure everything proceeds according to plan."
"Understood, Boss." Felix left to make arrangements.
Marcus returned to the window, staring toward Sullivan's estate. He could almost see the coming bloodbath, could already taste the victory.
Three days. Just three more days until everything changed.
—
As dawn broke, Sullivan's command center blazed with light. Gabriel stood before the tactical map, reviewing a freshly delivered surveillance report. He hadn't slept all night, yet his eyes remained sharp, showing no trace of fatigue.
Aiden burst through the door, clutching an encrypted file. "Boss, urgent intel from our inside source."
Gabriel took the document, scanning rapidly. It detailed Russell's late-night meeting—Boris's shooting, Olivia's declaration, and the plan for a full assault in three days.
Quincy emerged from the shadows, voice grim: "Russell's lost it. Throwing everything into a suicide charge. He wants to drag us to hell with him."
Gabriel set the file on the table, fingers drumming rhythmically, eyes tracking Montague's force deployments and attack routes on the map.
After a moment, he looked up, voice calm yet commanding: "Alert all facilities. Implement Level One security protocols. Recall all armed personnel from East and North sectors to defend the estate. Double the guard rotation in South sector."
Aiden made notes on his tablet. "The weapons cache?"
"Activate reserve stockpiles. Move all heavy weapons to the estate perimeter." Gabriel moved to the wall-mounted tactical map. "Where will Russell attack from?"
Quincy stepped forward, indicating several positions: "Based on Montague facility distribution, most likely simultaneous strikes from west and north. Those routes allow large-scale force deployment. But we can't rule out a frontal assault."
Gabriel's gaze was sharp as a blade as he studied the map: "Reinforce western and northern defensive positions. Deploy at least fifty men and three heavy machine guns at each vector. Establish three defensive lines at the main entrance—five hundred meters from the perimeter wall, at the wall itself, and around the main building."
He turned to Aiden: "Contact our people in the police department. That area needs 'routine traffic control' in three days. Evacuate nearby civilians, seal all access roads. I don't want innocents caught in this."
Aiden nodded. "What about Isabella? Should we move her to a safe house? We have a secure location in West sector Russell's people can't find."
Gabriel fell silent for several seconds, his mind flashing to Isabella during the ambush—gripping a gun, eyes shifting from terror to cold focus, pulling the trigger without hesitation.
"No." His voice came firm. "Isabella stays at the estate."
Aiden and Quincy exchanged glances. Aiden couldn't help asking: "Boss, this will be all-out war. The estate will be ground zero. Keeping her here—the risk is too high."
"The estate has our most comprehensive defensive systems and largest security force." Gabriel cut him off. "Moving her creates more danger. Russell's insane enough to ambush her en route. Besides—"
His tone softened. "She's not a helpless victim anymore. Last time, she killed three attackers without hesitation. She can protect herself. And she has the right to choose to stay and fight."
Quincy nodded. "Understood. I'll reinforce security around her quarters and provide optimal weapons and ammunition."
Gabriel added: "One more thing. Keep close watch on Donovan's movements. Marcus only sent fifty men and minimal weapons to support Russell. That doesn't match his usual style."
Aiden frowned. "You think—"
"Marcus is playing a bigger game." Gabriel's eyes went cold. "He wants us and Montague to destroy each other so he can sweep up the pieces. So this defensive battle—we don't just win. We win decisively and show Marcus he badly miscalculated."
He walked to the window, watching dawn break.
"Three days," he said quietly. "Enough time to show Russell exactly who wins this game."
He turned to Aiden and Quincy: "Summon all core members for a meeting. I want everyone to understand—this defensive battle isn't just about winning. It's about erasing the Montague family from the underworld entirely."
"Yes, Boss!" They responded in unison.
Gabriel took one last look at Isabella in the distance, something gentle flickering in his eyes. Then he donned his cold mask again and strode toward the conference room.
Outside, daylight strengthened. The war's countdown had begun.