The cold wind whipped through the narrow alleys of the Gale estate, the moonlight casting long shadows on the cobblestone streets. Carrick stood by the edge of the balcony again, the same spot where he had stood earlier that day. But now, there was a gnawing emptiness in the air, as if the city itself was holding its breath. The power he had seized was not a comfort. It was a weight. A burden that pressed down on him every moment.Inside the estate, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The council room, usually filled with casual chatter and scheming, was eerily quiet. Carrick had been spending less time in the boardrooms lately and more time on the streets, dealing with the remnants of the old order. Each deal, each confrontation, had taken its toll. He had started to feel the cracks in his control, as if the power he had so ruthlessly claimed was slipping through his fingers like sand.“Carrick,” Marco’s voice broke through the silence. “We’ve got a problem.”Carrick didn’t turn a

The estate hummed with a quiet, eerie intensity. Each step Carrick took on the cold marble floors seemed to reverberate through the halls, carrying the weight of the decisions he had made. It was clear now...Carrick Gale was no longer just a rising power. He was the storm, the unyielding force that shaped the city. But with that power came a growing unease, a creeping doubt that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts.Carrick sat at the long table in the council room, his fingers steepled in front of him. The weight of his leadership pressed heavily on his shoulders, but it wasn’t the pressure of the city or his enemies that troubled him most. It was the growing rift between him and his men...his brother, in particular. Marco’s words from the night before echoed in his mind like a warning bell, a constant reminder that the road he was walking was narrowing.The room had filled quickly after Carrick’s arrival. Victor, Darius, and Enzo stood by the walls, their usual confidence tempered by

The estate was alive with movement. Men armed to the teeth prepared for the war that was coming. Weapons were checked, ammunition counted, and alliances solidified. The air was thick with the scent of gun oil and cigarette smoke, a quiet hum of tension running through the halls like an electric current. Every man present knew what was at stake. If they lost, there would be no second chances.Carrick sat at the head of the table in the council room, his closest advisors gathered before him. His fingers tapped a slow, rhythmic beat on the polished wood as he studied the faces around him. Loyalty and fear mingled in their expressions, a silent acknowledgment of the battle to come."Moretti is making his move," Victor said, setting a map down on the table. Red markings indicated enemy movements, their areas of control expanding like a disease. "He’s pulled in every favor he’s ever had. Elena De Luca is backing him, and they’ve got the support of three smaller families that have turned aga

The city awoke to the scent of blood and smoke. By morning, news of the massacre at the docks had spread like wildfire through the underworld. Whispers crawled through the alleys and bars, into the cigar lounges and the brothels. Moretti and Elena De Luca were dead. Executed in a blaze of violence that had left no room for doubt...Carrick Gale had drawn the line in blood, and dared anyone to cross it. But not all lines could be erased with bullets. In a shadowed office deep in the West District, Arturo Salvi stood with his back to the window, cigarette in hand, watching the city with narrowed eyes. He was one of the old blood...the kind who had ruled before Carrick, before Moretti, before the streets became a chessboard of death. Beside him, Alessia De Luca, Elena’s younger sister, sat in silence, her fingers clenched tight around a crystal tumbler of scotch. “They butchered her,” Alessia said, her voice hollow. “Left her in the dirt like some street dog.” Arturo didn’t turn

Rain beat steadily against the city streets, a relentless rhythm that matched the pulse of tension rising in every corner of the underworld. Carrick Gale’s war wasn’t over...not by a long shot. The death of Moretti and Elena had only shifted the battlefield, not ended it. And in the silence that followed the bloodshed, new enemies crept in from the shadows.In a warehouse far from the estate, Carrick stood in front of rows of crates filled with imported weapons. The place was supposed to be secure. It had been. Until two nights ago.“Third shipment hit in a week,” Victor growled, pacing behind him. “They’re not just stealing from us...they’re torching the rest. Sending a message.”Carrick crouched, inspecting the blackened remains of a crate. His voice was cold. “What kind of message do they think they’re sending?”“The kind that says they’re not afraid.”Carrick stood, brushing ash from his fingers. “It’s Salvi. And Alessia.”Marco stood near the door, arms crossed, jaw tight. “They’