Chapter 2 Old Enemies Resurfaced

The gun pressed harder against the back of Adriano's head.He could hear the man's shaky breathing-fast, panicked.

"The idiot's terrified. Good. Fear makes people sloppy." Adriano thought to himself.

Adriano smiled-a slow, wicked thing.

"You really should've pulled the trigger by now," he said casually.

For a second, nothing happened. Just the heavy breathing, the weight of the gun digging into his skull, the blood roaring in Adriano's ears.

And then-in a flash-Adriano moved.

He spun left, knocking the man's gun hand away. The gunshot went off into the air with a deafening-

BANG!

Adriano's fist connected with the man's jaw-a brutal, savage blow that sent him stumbling backward. Before the man could recover, Adriano lunged, driving his shoulder into the man's gut, tackling him hard onto the cracked asphalt.

They wrestled, grunting and snarling like animals in the dark. The gun clattered to the ground, sliding just out of reach.

The man scrambled toward it, desperation making him reckless.

But Adriano was faster.

He grabbed a loose brick lying nearby and smashed it down onto the man's outstretched hand.

The man screamed as bones cracked.

Adriano pounced, straddling the man's chest, pinning him down.

"You fucked up," Adriano hissed, breathing hard.

He picked up the brick again, raised it high-

"NO! PLEASE!" the man shrieked. "I-I can tell you where the money is! I can tell you where they're hiding it!"

Adriano paused, brick still poised in his bloody hand. Ready to smash it down into the man's skull.

Around them, the night seemed to hold its breath.

Adriano tilted his head, considering.

"Talk fast."

The man babbled, spitting out names, addresses, stash houses-anything he could remember in his terror-fueled haze. Sweat and blood soaked his face as he stuttered through his desperate confession.

Adriano listened carefully, committing every word to memory.

When the man finally fell silent, trembling and sniveling, Adriano lowered the brick...and instead reached for his gun.

He pressed the barrel against the man's forehead.

"You just bought yourself a few more minutes of life," he said coldly.

"For now," Luca's voice added smoothly as he emerged from the shadows, gun raised, a wolfish grin on his face.

Marco and Enzo came jogging up behind him, guns drawn but relaxed now that their boss had everything under control.

Adriano stood, brushing dust from his clothes with slow, deliberate movements.

"Boss," Marco said, nodding toward the warehouse. "You want him back inside?"

"Yes, bag him," he ordered. "We're not done with him yet."

Marco yanked the man up roughly, cuffing his bloody hands behind his back. The man whimpered, but didn't resist. Without another word, they dragged him back to the warehouse.

Inside, the air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and gunpowder.

The two other debtors-still tied and gagged-flinched when they saw their buddy dragged back inside like a broken toy.

Adriano stalked over to the chair he had previously occupied - the throne of this grim little kingdom - and sat down with a lazy, dangerous sprawl, crossing one leg over the other.

The third man was thrown to the floor at his feet.

Adriano leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"Five hundred thousand dollars," he said softly. "That's what you owe me."

The warehouse was silent except for the whimpering of the bound men.

"Three months," Adriano continued, his voice dropping to a silky, venomous whisper. "I gave you three extra months. Grace. Mercy. I don't give that to just anyone, you know."

He smiled - and it was far worse than a frown. "And this is how you repay me?"

He gestured lazily with his hand. One of his soldiers ripped the gag off the third man.

"P-please, Boss!" the man sobbed. "It wasn't supposed to go down like this! We were gonna pay! We swear!"

Adriano sighed like a parent tired of hearing excuses from a stupid child.

"You had options," he said. "You made your choice."

And then, without breaking eye contact-

BANG!

The gunshot echoed like a thunderclap inside the warehouse.

The man's head snapped back, blood and bone exploding against the concrete wall behind him.

The two remaining men screamed through their gags, eyes wild with horror.

Adriano holstered his gun, calm as ever.

He leaned back in his chair, casually wiping a speck of blood from the sleeve of his jacket.

"Let that be a fucking lesson," he said coldly. "To anyone who thinks they can play me."

The warehouse door creaked loudly then, pulling everyone's attention.

A tall figure entered, moving with quiet grace. Long black hair cascaded down a leather jacket. Pale skin almost glowed under the harsh warehouse lights. Sharp blue eyes scanned the room, unimpressed by the gore.

"Jesus Christ, boys," Serena DeLuca drawled. "You always throw the best parties without me."

Adriano grinned, the first real grin of the night.

"You're late, Shadow."

"Traffic," Serena said dryly, pulling a tablet out of her bag. "And also, I was busy hacking into the city's security feeds so your little tantrum here doesn't get you on the five o'clock news."

She tapped rapidly on the tablet, eyes focused.

"Anyway, you're welcome," she added sweetly.

Enzo chuckled darkly.

"Glad you could make it, principessa."

Serena flipped him off without looking up.

Adriano rose from his chair, walking over to her. "What did you find?" he asked, voice low.

Serena's fingers danced over the screen.

"That missing five hundred grand? It's worse than you think. These idiots weren't just hoarding it... they were moving it. Through shell accounts. Laundering it for someone else."

Adriano's jaw tightened. "Who?"

Serena's lips curved into a sharp, predatory smile. "Still digging. But whoever it is... they're not small time."

She tapped on one last file and spun the tablet to face him. A grainy, zoomed-in image appeared-a man in a dark suit, shaking hands with someone at a shipping dock.

Adriano leaned closer.

His blood turned to ice.

The face was blurry... but one detail was crystal clear.

Pinned to the man's lapel was a small, unmistakable emblem. A black rose.

Adriano leaned closer, every muscle in his body going rigid.

"Motherfuckers," he breathed.

It wasn't just a rival dealer.

It wasn't some minor gang.

It was someone from La Rosa Nera. (The Black Rose)

The mafia responsible for killing his mother.

The mafia they'd been at war with for seven long years.

Adriano's hand curled into a fist at his side.

"Find out everything," he said in a voice of pure steel.

Serena nodded once, all humor gone now.

Adriano turned back toward his men-toward the two terrified debtors still bound and shaking on the ground.

"We're about to send a message," he said darkly. "Not just to these rats-" he pointed toward the men-" but to every motherfucker stupid enough to think Il Serpente Dorato is weak."

The golden snake on his arm-inked there since he was sixteen-seemed to slither under his skin.

Tonight had started as debt collection.

Now it was war.

And Adriano Greco had no intention of losing.