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I make a show of spinning the cylinder one last time.

He breath stutters, panic setting in. “I will… I swear.”

I release her, stepping back. “Smart choice.”

She crumples to the ground, and when I glance down, I see a dark stain spreading beneath her. She pissed herself.

I smirk. “Make sure she doesn’t get comfortable.”

Matteo grins, flexing his bloody knuckles as he hauls her up. “With pleasure.”

I glance around the dock as he leaves. The ground is slick with blood, bodies scattered like discarded playing cards. Some groan, barely clinging to life, but most are still. Silent. Dead.

A few weeks ago, it was my men who lay here. Men I have now avenged.

Matteo returns from wherever he took Elena, standing beside me as he wipes his bloody hands on a rag. His suit is ruined—splattered with red, torn at the sleeve—but he looks satisfied.

I light a cigarette, inhaling deeply as I watch my men work. The bodies are being dragged into piles, stripped of anything useful before being tossed into the waiting incinerator truck. The dock is stained dark, a graveyard of those who thought they could stand against me.

I exhale slowly. “We hit the safe houses next,” I say to Matteo. “Every single one. No survivors.”

Matteo nods. “And the businesses?”

“Take what’s profitable. Burn the rest.”

He grins. “Music to my ears.”

I take another drag of my cigarette, letting the smoke curl in the cold night air before glancing at the bodies one last time. “Good job. Matteo. Our men will rest easy in hell.”

A flicker of something—grief, maybe—crosses his face, but he buries it quickly with a curt nod.

I’m about to speak again when I hear it.

The unmistakable sound of a gun cocking close to my ear.

Slowly, I turn.

Marco stands behind me, gun raised. His dark suit is rumpled, splattered with blood. His lip is split, a fresh bruise darkening his jaw. He looks wild—desperate.

Matteo tenses beside me, already moving, but I lift a hand, stopping him.

Marco smirks, his grip tightening on the gun. “I bet you didn’t see this coming.”

I exhale slowly, shaking my head. “Look around, Marco.” My voice is calm. Amused, even. “Look at the men surrounding you.”

His confidence wavers. His eyes dart from face to face, scanning the crowd. His men are gone. Some lie among the dead, their bodies cooling in the dirt. The rest? They chose survival over loyalty.

I watch the moment realization hits him—the way his jaw clenches, the way his breath quickens. He was so caught up in his own game, he never even noticed he was walking straight into mine.

“What… what the fuck is going on?”

I take a slow, deliberate step forward. His grip on the gun tightens, knuckles turning white.

“You thought you were smart,” I say, my voice steady, unaffected by the weapon pointed at me. “That you could play me. That Aria was feeding you my secrets.” I shake my head, chuckling darkly. “The men you sent to those so called ‘secret shipment spots’ you thought I didn’t know about? They’re being intercepted as we speak.”

His eyes widen slightly, but the gun stays up. His breathing turns shallow, erratic.

“The shipments don’t even exist, Marco,” I continue. “Because the plans Aria gave you? They were fake.”