Gabriel Marchesi sat in the dim, wood-paneled courtroom, his hands folded neatly on the mahogany defense table. The air was heavy with anticipation, a low murmur of whispers rippling through the packed gallery. Opposite him, the prosecution’s table was stacked with papers, the assistant district attorney leaning over a thick file with furrowed brows. Gabriel allowed himself a small smile; the ADA was young, inexperienced, and clearly out of his depth. This wasn’t just a case. It was a spectacle, and Gabriel knew how to command an audience.The case had all the hallmarks of a media frenzy: a mob hit gone wrong, a body dumped in the river, and a suspect with ties to the infamous Russo crime family. Gabriel’s client, a low-level enforcer named Marco Giordano, sat beside him, sweat beading on his brow despite the courtroom’s chill. Marco had been accused of murdering a rival gang member, and the prosecution was confident they had him dead to rights. A fingerprint on the murder weapon, a w

The rain pounded the windows of Gabriel’s penthouse apartment as he sat alone in his dimly lit study, nursing a glass of scotch. His laptop glowed faintly on the desk, open to a file containing every scrap of legal work he’d ever done for the Russos. A quiet storm brewed in his mind as he considered the implications of Allegra’s demand. Anthony Marino wasn’t just another loose thread; he was a live wire, a man who could bring everything crashing down.The sharp buzz of his phone shattered his thoughts. Gabriel glanced at the screen, saw an unknown number, and hesitated. Unknown numbers meant trouble. They also meant opportunity. He pressed the answer button.“Marchesi,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension coiling in his chest.“It’s Marino.”Gabriel froze. The accountant’s voice was shaky, laced with fear. “We need to talk. Alone.”Gabriel leaned back in his chair, letting the silence linger long enough to unsettle the man on the other end of the line. “You’ve got a lot of n

Gabriel stood frozen in the middle of the motel room, his hand still hovering near the gun tucked into his jacket. His thoughts were a blur as Allegra took a slow step toward him, her heel tapping against the grimy floor, echoing in the silence. The sound was almost mocking, the rhythmic beat of his downfall.Marino's body lay sprawled on the floor, blood pooling around him, his life snuffed out in an instant. Gabriel could almost hear the words the accountant had spoken echoing in his mind: "I'll make sure to clear your name. I'll give you everything..." And now, nothing. All of it was gone, erased in the cold efficiency of a bullet. Allegra had acted swiftly, decisively, and Gabriel was left standing at the crossroads of betrayal and survival.“You killed him,” Gabriel finally muttered, his voice flat, drained of emotion.Allegra smirked, the corner of her lips lifting in an almost predatory way. “I had to,” she said matter-of-factly. “He was a liability, Gabriel. You knew this wasn

Gabriel Slate was no stranger to pressure. Over the years, he’d become adept at keeping his cool under the most trying circumstances, deflecting threats with charm and turning accusations into triumphs. But that morning, sitting in his sleek, minimalist office overlooking the heart of Chicago, the pressure felt insurmountable.The envelope on his desk glared back at him like a time bomb. The gold embossed letterhead of the Department of Justice seemed to mock him. Inside was a subpoena, formally summoning him to testify in an investigation targeting the Russo crime family. The wording was clinical, but the implications were chilling. The feds weren’t just circling the Russos, they were zeroing in on him, too.Gabriel leaned back in his leather chair, running a hand through his carefully styled hair. His mind raced. Kane was playing a dangerous game. The federal agent had already tried intimidation, then persuasion, and now legal strong-arming. Gabriel knew that ignoring the subpoena w

Gabriel Slate was a man drowning in contradictions, but tonight, his world felt especially perilous. As he stood in the middle of his dimly lit apartment, the weight of his choices bore down on him like never before. The list Allegra had given him sat on the table, a stark reminder of the impossible task ahead. Each name on that list represented a life Allegra expected him to end, something Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to do.But in sparing them, he knew he was signing his death warrant.The night’s silence was broken by a knock at the door, sharp and deliberate. Gabriel’s hand instinctively moved toward the pistol he kept in his desk drawer. Slowly, he approached the door and peered through the peephole. Standing on the other side was not an assassin sent by Allegra, but a ghost from his past: Paul Marino’s widow, Elena.Gabriel hesitated for a moment before unlocking the door. Elena stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room with a mixture of curiosity and mistrust. She was dresse