Bleeding on White Marble: How the Devil of Beacon Hill Became My Sanctuary

By 2:00 AM, the mansion was silent once more.

Rain beat relentlessly against the shattered stained-glass windows of the grand foyer. Smoke hung thick in the air, smelling of cordite, ozone, and wet leather. Eleven of Moretti’s mercenaries lay disarmed or dead in the courtyard, swept away by Gabriel’s ruthless counter-strike.

In the private study on the second floor, Harper sat on the edge of a leather sofa, holding a warm damp towel against a small cut on her forehead. Noah was sleeping safely in the inner panic suite, unaware of the war that had just raged outside his door.

The heavy oak doors opened.

Gabriel stepped inside. His black suit coat was gone, his white shirt torn at the shoulder and stained with rain and mud. A cut ran along his sharp jawline, dripping fresh blood onto his collar.

He didn't look at Marco, who stood behind him. He didn't look at the damage to his estate.

His amber eyes swept directly to Harper.

In three heavy strides, Gabriel crossed the room, dropped to one knee before her sofa, and cupped her face in his large, trembling hands.

"Are you hurt?" his voice was rough, unpolished, and laced with an agony she had never heard in him before. "Harper, look at me. Did they touch you?"

"I'm okay," Harper whispered, placing her hands over his. "Gabriel, I'm okay. Marco got to us in time."

Gabriel closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against hers. A deep, ragged breath escaped his chest. The formidable kingpin who held Boston in an iron grip was shaking—not from fear of death, but from the terror of losing her.

"They breached my home," Gabriel growled softly against her skin, his thumb brushing over the small cut on her forehead with unbearable tenderness. "I let them get too close to you."

"You came back," Harper murmured, looking into his eyes. "You promised me you’d come back, and you did."

Gabriel lifted his head, staring at her with an intensity that burned through the cool air of the room. "Don salvatore Moretti thought he could take you from me to force a surrender. He made a fatal error."

"What are you going to do?"

"I am going to erase the Moretti family from New England," Gabriel said quietly, the absolute coldness in his tone making it clear that this was no longer a business dispute. It was a holy war.

He reached up, gently wiping a drop of blood from her cheek with his thumb, then leaned in and pressed his lips softly against her temple.

"You and Noah are leaving Boston tonight," he said against her skin. "My private jet is waiting at Logan Airport. I am sending you to my estate in Maine until this city is clean."

Harper gripped his forearms, refusing to let go. "No. I'm not running away again, Gabriel. I spent three years running from Derek. I won't spend the rest of my life running every time a man with a gun threatens you."

Gabriel looked at her, stunned by the fierce fire burning behind her dark eyes. The fragile woman who had bled on his marble floor three weeks ago was gone. In her place stood someone forged in the same iron as he was.