But Mason was ready. He leaned forward, eyes blazing with a conviction that went beyond simple ambition. “Ironically, they're the ones already investing. We're not taking them down—we're offering them a seat at a table they've never seen before. A legitimate future. Who wouldn’t want a seat at the table when it comes to playing god over fate? We give them a glimpse into a better, brighter Chicago—a city that thrives on respect instead of fear.”“Care?” Maria's voice rose, cutting through the church's musty silence. “These crime lords barely care about the breathing bodies on these streets. You think they'll care about the positive side of your fancy tech?”“That's where you're wrong.” Mason's tone softened, but the edge remained. He moved closer, close enough that Maria could see the determination etched into every line of his face. “I've shown them something new. Something that makes money. I'm giving them a distraction from the business-as-usual crime that plagues this city. They're

Mason deliberately sidestepped Jake's calls, his footsteps echoing against the worn concrete as he made his way to the SUV parked down the block.Night draped Chicago like a heavy coat, the air thick with potential. Mason's fingers traced the cool metal of the SUV, feeling the vehicle vibrate with a restless energy that matched his own. It was a sharp contrast to the suffocating atmosphere of the church basement he’d just left.His phone buzzed. Again. Jake's name flashed persistent, a digital drumbeat demanding attention.Mason finally relented, thumb swiping across the screen. "Jake? You there?"Jake's voice crackled through, raw and unfiltered. "Damn, took you long enough. Thought I'd have to send out a search party."A dry chuckle escaped Mason's lips. "Been busy.""Same here! Crazy night yesterday; I crashed out at the site. That foundation ain’t gonna pour itself, you know?"Mason chuckled, shaking his head. "Found you another multilevel bender job?""Dude, I was working my ass

Mason rolled up to the King mansion like he owned every square inch of Chicago's most brutal real estate. The place wasn't just a house—it was a statement. Massive oak trees framed the property like sentinels, their branches casting long shadows that whispered old secrets. Leo's SUV cut through the wrought-iron gates—those gates had seen more drama than a South Side courthouse on a Friday night.The gates swung open with an electronic hum, a technological ballet that screamed money and power. Mason knew this wasn't just an entrance. This was a threshold between worlds.He paused. One heartbeat. Two.His eyes—sharp as a loan shark's accounting ledger—scanned the estate. Every window, every marble pathway was a narrative waiting to spill. Old money mixed with new power, and the combination was volatile as hell. The mansion glinted in the evening light, a chrome-plated promise of everything and nothing.Staff materialized like ghosts. Maids in pressed uniforms. Security personnel who mov

Ethan felt the cold crawl down his spine like a drunk spider, the name Thomas hanging in the air thick as Chicago fog. Thomas wasn't just a name—he was a goddamn legend whispered in back alleys and dimly lit bars. A cipher that spelled out chaos, sharp as a razor's edge, dangerous as a loaded gun.His voice cut through the silence, that particular tone Arthur knew too well—part confusion, part intrigue. The kind of voice that said he'd seen some shit but wasn't about to back down."That Thomas King you mentioned..." Ethan drawled. "Same Leo's old man?"Arthur paused. Not the kind of pause that meant he was thinking—the kind that meant memories were wrestling beneath his skin.He exhaled slow, a rasp that spoke volumes. "Yeah, Ethan. Same Thomas King."Ethan leaned back, those sharp eyes narrowing. The smirk that crawled across his lips was pure cynical, knowing. "Huhhhh. Thought that bastard was worm food by now."Arthur's mouth twitched. Not a smile. Something darker. "Oh, he's dead

Meanwhile, in Eastern Europe sat a warehouse at the edge of nowhere like a forgotten secret. Inside, blue light from dozens of monitors painted Diego, Yuri, and Katya in digital twilight. The place smelled of coffee gone cold and ambition gone hungry.Diego lounged in his chair, expensive boots propped on metal like he owned the place. The Armenian cognac in his hand caught the screen light, amber turning to gold. Six months of their lives spent crawling through digital vaults, and what did they have?"Míra esto," he drawled, Spanish accent thick with irony. He gestured at the largest diamond on display, his lips curled in amusement. "Six months breaking into banks, and what's our prize? Rocks." He took another pull from the bottle. "Pretty ones, sure. But Chicago?" He shook his head. "They fight over these things like they're made of pure power.""These aren't mere stones," Yuri's voice rumbled like distant thunder across the warehouse. His massive frame hunched over the monitor, thi