Chapter 9 - The Price of a Favor
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Posie wheeled her chair slowly into the room. She had grown tired of waiting in the main diner. Without Brutus to guide her, she bumped the front wheels of her chair against the doorframe, letting out a small, frustrated sigh.
"Mama?" Posie called out into the quiet room.
Gabriel Rossi stopped drinking his coffee. He stared at the little girl in the wheelchair, taking in her unseeing eyes and the empty space beside her left hand, where her fingers were unconsciously twitching, searching for fur that wasn't there.
"I'm here, baby," Brier hurried over, kneeling beside the chair.
Gabriel set his mug down on the table. The sharp clack of porcelain echoed loudly. He looked at Brier, his eyes shifting from the little girl back to the bruised, desperate mother.
"Silas," Gabriel murmured, the name tasting like ash in his mouth. "He operates an unlicensed fighting pit on the East Side. He's been encroaching on my territory, moving stolen goods without paying the syndicate's tax."
"He's going to sell him," Brier said, her voice cracking. "Or worse, he's going to put him in a ring. Brutus will fight to the death if he's backed into a corner. He won't survive the week."
Gabriel leaned back against the red leather booth, folding his hands over his stomach. He looked at Posie again. The little girl was completely silent, her face a picture of pure, unresolved grief. Gabriel thought of his own niece, safe and protected in a gated estate.
"I don't do favors for free," Gabriel said quietly.
"I don't have any money," Brier admitted, fresh tears stinging her eyes. "I make minimum wage. But I will work off the debt. I'll clean your properties, I'll cook, I'll do whatever you want."
Gabriel stood up. He was incredibly tall, his presence dominating the small room. He walked over to the wheelchair and crouched down, placing himself directly at Posie's eye level.
"What is your name, little bird?" Gabriel asked, his terrifyingly deep voice softening to a gentle rumble.
"Posie," she answered, turning her head toward the sound of his voice.
"Posie," Gabriel repeated. "I am going to bring your dog back. You have my word."
Posie reached out blindly. Her small hand brushed against Gabriel's expensive silk tie, then rested lightly on his broad shoulder. "Will you hurt the bad man?"
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Gabriel looked up at Brier, his dark eyes flashing with absolute, murderous intent.
"Yes," Gabriel whispered to the child. "I am going to hurt him very badly."
