Dawn broke over Manhattan like a wound healing too slowly, red-orange sky stretched across the skyline, casting long shadows over the city that never slept. From his perch atop the newly claimed skyscraper in Midtown, Lucien Castle watched the light creep over the horizon, painting the steel and glass towers in hues of fire and ash.
His breath misted in the cold air as he stood motionless, dressed in an immaculate black overcoat lined with crimson silk. A gold watch ticked softly on his wrist, a gift from a dying man who was once loyal to Rocco Serra.
Behind him, the rooftop was alive with quiet efficiency. Men in tailored suits moved like clockwork, loading crates of weapons, money, and narcotics into armored black SUVs. The sound of boots on concrete echoed through the wind. One of them approached Lucien, holding a tablet displaying a footage of Luca and Enzo from security cameras near the Bakery.
"Footage spotted them near the bakery, the bakery is compromised," the man reported. "They left afterward. They didn't even attack or anything."
Lucien didn't turn. He simply stared out over the city, sipping espresso from a fine porcelain cup.
"Luca Varga," he said, voice smooth as marble. "Dammit, what is he up to this time."
The man hesitated. "Orders?"
Lucien finally turned, eyes sharp and calculating beneath the shadow of his fedora. He handed the cup back to his subordinate without a word, then stepped forward until he was inches away from the man.
"I want every known associate of Luca and Enzo identified within the next twelve hours. I want their families found. Their homes burned. Their names erased. Lastly, give word on the street that whoever brings me Luca's head will receive a large ransom."
The man swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."
"Don't disappoint me, Dan, Luca needs to be eliminated along with that bastard Enzo."
The man nodded and disappeared down the stairwell, leaving Lucien alone again with the rising sun.
Inside the Penthouse, 22h00
Lucien, in his office, sipped a glass of whiskey, one of his lieutenants, a woman named Isabella Cruz, kocked on the door of his office.
"Come in," Lucien answered.
The door opened with a soft creak.
"Sir, we've got movement near the old abandoned warehouse," she said. "We believe Enzo and Luca might be laying low there."
Lucien looked up. "You think they're stupid enough to stay in one place?"
Isabella smirked. "No, sir, but they could be planning something."
Lucien studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Send two teams. Quietly. No survivors. Lastly, alert Dan."
She rose from her seat, already pulling out her phone. "Will do so, sir."
As she left, another figure entered, tall, scarred, and older than most of the men in the Penthouse. This was Tomas Grigori, a former ally of Anton Varga, presumed dead after the fall of the Varga Empire. Now, he walked freely through Lucien's halls.
"You summoned me, I hear?" Tomas asked.
Lucien gestured to the empty chair beside him. "Sit."
Tomas obeyed, though his posture remained rigid.
"I need you to tell me about Luca Varga," Lucien said. "Not what history says. Not what the papers printed. I want to know how far he's willing to go when provoked."
Tomas exhaled slowly. "Hard to say. He was only a boy when Anton died. But he carries his father's eyes. And his rage. He went after Rocco Serra and put him down like he's nothing."
Lucien tilted his head. "Mmhm, so he won't stop till im dead."
"I'm afraid so," Tomas said flatly. "Word is he's planning a takeover. Wants the city back the way it was under his grandfather, Anton."
Tomas locked eyes with Lucien. "You provoked him. He'll come for you unless you stop and let him take over."
Lucien smirked coldly. "Interesting, so you believe i don't stand a chance, huh?"
"I don't know," Tomas said flatly. "Hard to say. But if I were you, sir, I wouldn't challenge him. Luca's worse than Rocco. He's an animal. He's unpredictable. Dangerous, He doesn't stop."
Lucien let out a sharp laugh before finally answering. "Not unless I eliminate him first."
Elsewhere in the City
The Docks 03h00
The harbor was silent except for the distant cry of gulls and the gentle lapping of water against rotting wood. Inside a half-collapsed warehouse, Lucien waited alone, standing in the center of the floor where moonlight filtered through broken windows.
A door creaked open. Two figures entered, one tall and imposing, the other smaller, cloaked in darkness.
"You came," Lucien said.
The taller man stepped forward. "I did. But let's be clear with one thing, I'm not your soldier."
Lucien smiled. "Of course not. You're my guest."
The man removed his hood, revealing a face etched with years of violence and survival.
It was Viktor Krasnov, once the right and enemy of Rocco Serra. Believed dead. Thought gone.
Now, he was back.
Lucien extended a hand. "Welcome to the future."
Viktor didn't shake it.
Instead, he spoke in a low, dangerous tone. "If you want to rule this city, you'll need more than brute force. You'll need strategy. And you'll need to understand what it means to be feared, not just respected."
Lucien tilted his head. "That's why we should work together and get rid of those who oppose us."
Viktor studied him for a long moment.
Then, finally, he nodded.