Mason's laugh caught them all off guard – genuine amusement bubbling up from some deep well. "You know what's funny? "All this fancy talk about order, tradition and respect - makes my teeth hurt." His gaze locked onto Ramirez like a sniper's scope. "But y'all missed something real important.""Then enlighten us." Santos leaned forward in his wheelchair."Why now?" Mason's voice carried through the dusty air. "Why this meeting? Why these accusations?" His gaze swept the table. "You want to talk about unusual patterns? Let's talk about timing."Ramirez's drumming finger went still. "¿Qué estás diciendo, Mason? Meaning exactly?""Three major operations hit in one night. Precision strikes, inside information." Mason's smile was winter frost. "Almost like someone knew exactly where to hurt you. Which means either your security's worth shit, or...""Or?" The Calabrese twins moved in perfect mirror-image, both tilting forward like wolves catching a scent."Or someone's been feeding informati
"You've been busy, pequeño rey." Ramirez's accent dripped thick as molasses gone bad, each word carrying the weight of old grudges. "Such thorough research. Such attention to detail. Dime – how long did it take to compile all this... evidence?"Mason settled deeper into his chair, radiating the easy confidence that made him dangerous. "About as long as it took you to think you'd gotten away with it." His eyes glinted with amusement that never touched his smile. "That's the thing about playing chess. You gotta watch all the pieces, not the ones making the most noise.""Enough games." Tommy Chen slapped the table, dragon tattoos writhing. "You want war? Say so. Stop with fancy words."The Calabrese twins moved like mirror images, their matching suits rustling as their hands disappeared beneath their jackets. Years of working in sync made them speak like a single split soul."Way we see it," Marco started, voice smooth as aged whiskey."You got two choices," Antonio finished."Step down
Mason stood with deliberate boldness.Not rushed. Not nervous. Just the slow, deadly grace of a predator who knew exactly when to strike."You're right about one thing, Ramirez. Times do change." His hands stayed visible, but every boss at that table knew how fast those empty hands could turn deadly. "But some things?" A ghost smile touched his lips. "Some things are carved in stone. Like what happens to people who try to steal from a King."The afternoon sun slanted through the windows, painting sharp shadows across the assembled faces of Chicago's underworld royalty. Mason noted how the light caught the silver at Ramirez's temples, how it gleamed off Tommy Chen's dragon tattoos. All these little details. All these perfect target points."Is that threat?" Petrov's voice rumbled like distant thunder."Nah." Mason kept his voice soft, gentle even. Like talking to a spooked animal before the slaughter. "It's a promise. See, while you've all been real busy moving pieces around my board,
A quick shot came from Santos.Viktor had seen it coming a mile away - the wheelchair was the perfect cover for an ankle holster. The .22 sighed death instead of screaming it, built for up-close-and-personal work. Would've been clever, if Santos hadn't telegraphed his moves like a rookie boxer.Mason wasn't there anymore to catch it though. The instant Santos's sleeve twitched, Viktor had yanked his boss sideways, both of them hitting the deck as the round sailed past. Viktor's gun appeared in his hand like a conjurer's trick, but he held his fire. No need to waste the bullet.The red dots already dancing across Santos's chest told their own story. His two muscle men joined the light show, their faces going from tough to ghost-white in record time.A goodbye.Mason swore under his breath. He'd nearly died, but the game wasn't over. If death marked the beginning of a new life, as they said, then his had started the night Olivia's betrayal cut deeper than any blade.He picked himself up
Mason Rivers wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, his heart pounding with anticipation. The sapphire bracelet nestled in its velvet box felt like it weighed a ton in his pocket. He'd scrimped and saved for months to afford it, working overtime and weekends until his hands were calloused and his back ached. But it was worth it. For Olivia, anything was worth it.He fumbled with his keys, juggling the bouquet of lilies—Olivia's favorite—and the bottle of wine he'd splurged on. The clock on his beat-up Honda read 6:47 PM. Perfect. He was early, and Olivia wouldn't be home from her yoga class for another hour. Just enough time to set up the surprise.As he climbed the stairs to their third-floor walk-up, Mason allowed himself a rare moment of pride. Sure, their apartment was small, and yeah, his contractor's salary wasn't exactly setting the world on fire. But he and Olivia had built a life together. Six years of marriage, of shared dreams and whispered promises. Tonight was going to be sp
Mason blinked, sure he'd misheard. "Excuse me?"The woman's gaze never wavered. "Get in. Enemies mightn't wait to take a shot."Maybe it was the shock. Maybe it was the crushing weight of having nothing left to lose. Whatever the reason, Mason found himself sliding into the plush leather seat.The door clicked shut, sealing him into a world that smelled of expensive cologne and danger."Dammit!," the woman exclaimed, pulling smoothly into traffic. "We've been worried sick. Where have you been?"Mason opened his mouth, then closed it. What the hell was happening?The woman's eyes flicked to him in the rearview mirror. "You look like hell, Leo. Rough night?"Leo? Mason's mind raced. This woman thought he was someone else. Someone important, by the looks of things.He should speak up. Tell her there'd been a mistake.But then Olivia's words echoed in his head. Worthless.Mason straightened, squaring his shoulders. "You could say that," he replied, deepening his voice slightly. The woman'
Mason leaned back, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Because I realized something. We're not just a crime syndicate, Eve. We're an empire. And empires don't crumble because of one close call. They adapt. They grow stronger."He stood, pacing the room as the words flowed. "We've been playing it safe for too long. It's time to expand. To take what's ours."Eve's expression shifted from suspicion to intrigue. "What exactly are you proposing?"Mason's mind raced, piecing together fragments from the earlier meeting. "Ramirez thinks he can muscle in on our territory? Let's crush him. The Italians are worried about their shipments? We'll double them. And as for our friends in city hall..." He paused, a wicked glint in his eye. "Well, let's just say it's time for some new leadership in this town."Eve stared at him for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "Now that sounds like the Leo King I know." She grinned. "Welcome back, boss."As Eve left the office, Mason sank back into the chair,
The next evening, Mason adjusted his Italian silk tie, catching his reflection before a full-length mirror. The man staring back bore little resemblance to the contractor who'd stumbled through the rain just days ago. Tonight, he wore power like a second skin, wrapped in a bespoke Tom Ford tuxedo that Eve had somehow procured within hours, its price tag more than he used to make in a year. "Looking sharp, boss," Eve said, leaning against the doorframe. "You sure you don't want backup tonight?"Mason shook his head. "This is something I need to do alone."Eve's eyes narrowed. "You know, a few days ago, I would've bet my life that I knew everything about you, Leo. Now? I'm not so sure."Mason met her gaze in the mirror. "People change, Eve. Sometimes overnight."A wry smile tugged at Eve's lips. "Yeah, well, just make sure you come back in one piece. I've gotten used to having you around."As Mason headed for the door, Eve called out, "Oh, and Leo? Happy birthday."He mumbled a thanks a