Chapter 2

XAIVER.

I leaned back in my leather chair, the glass of scotch warm in my hand as the city lights flickered outside my office window. Manhattan pulsed beneath me, alive and unaware. My thoughts drifted—again—to Emily Steele. The NYU student with piercing green eyes and raven-black hair. She’d gotten under my skin more than I cared to admit.

Dem stepped into the office, interrupting the memory I was savoring. “Boss, the information you asked for.”

He handed me a sleek black envelope. I opened it slowly, letting the weight of anticipation build as I scanned the contents.

Emily Steele.

Age: 21.

American.

Computer Science major at NYU.

Bright. Sharp. Beautiful. Dangerous combination. Dem lingered, but I waved him off with a nod. “That’s all.”Once he was gone, I sat back, letting her name echo in my mind.

Emily Steele.

There was something untamed in her, something challenging. I liked that. I’d let her think she had freedom—for now. Let her breathe, taste independence, feel like she was still in control.

But soon?.... I let the question linger without a response.

My eyes returned to the skyline, picturing her walking those streets, blissfully unaware of the world she was about to be dragged into.

The intercom buzzed. “sir, Victor’s here to see you.” my sectary announced. I sighed and straightened, slipping back into business mode.

Victor entered, face grim. “Sir, we’ve received intel. The Morano family is pushing their new synthetic opioid on our turf.”

My jaw clenched around the rim of my glass. The Moranos. Of course. “Where?”

“Several downtown clubs. We believe they’re using our own distribution channels.”

That got my attention.

I set my drink down with a quiet thud. My mind began clicking through options, people, places. Someone was feeding them intel—someone close. No one operates in my city without me knowing.

I run this city.

“Get me everything,” I said coldly. “Every location, every name, every goddamn gram they’ve moved. I want their operation bled dry.”

Victor gave a firm nod and left.

A few minutes later, Victor returned, a folder in hand. “Sir,” he said. “We’ve identified the manufacturing plant and key distributors.”

I nod, studying the documents. This is why Victor’s my head of operations—he always delivers, and fast. "Get our teams ready.

We'll take down their operation, piece by piece." Victor nods and leaves the office. The Marano family’s been quiet for too long, and now I see why.

They’ve started selling again—and not just anything. They’re pushing a new synthetic opioid that's moving fast through our territory.

But here's the thing. Marco Marano doesn't have the brains or the connections to come up with a product that strong on his own. His past batches were garbage—weak, unstable, barely sold. He’s lost respect on the streets. No one was taking them seriously.

And now suddenly, their product is solid? High potency. Clean blend. Moving faster than anything they’ve ever distributed?

That’s not a coincidence. Someone gave them our formula. Or worse—our actual product.The intercom buzzes.

"Sir, Dem’s back."

Dem steps in, his face set with that look he gets when he’s got something

serious to say.

"What is it, Dem?"

He closes the door behind him. "We’ve received reports of a potential traitor within our ranks."

I lean forward, my eyes fixed on him. "Who?"

He shakes his head. "We don’t know yet. But we’ve confirmed that someone took from our reserves. One of our batches is missing."

My jaw tightens.

Guess I was right afterwards.

"You're telling me someone inside stole from us and gave it to the Maranos?"

Dem nods. "That’s exactly what I’m saying. Their new product? It matches ours almost exactly. The chemical signature is too precise to be a copycat—it’s either the real thing or a direct replica using our recipe."

"How the hell would they get that kind of access?"

Dem doesn’t flinch. "That’s what we’re trying to figure out. We ran a check through inventory logs at the main warehouse—one of the shipments was tampered with. No one reported it. They’re still combing through the security footage."

My hands ball into fists."This operation is locked down. Only trusted hands touch that product. So either someone high up is playing both sides—or someone’s damn good at covering their tracks."

Dem nods. "I’ve already ordered a full sweep. No one’s above suspicion, boss."

"Good. Keep this quiet. I want names, faces, times, everything. And I want the Marano pipeline cut off before they get too comfortable."

"On it."

“Why am I just hearing this now? How long have you known?”.

“A week ago, boss. I tried to investigate on my own to get you answers, but I found nothing. I didn’t want to keep it from you any longer.”

“Dem.” My voice was calm, steady.

“Boss.”

“Next time something happens, I want to know about it before it even happens. Do you understand?”

“Yes, boss.”

“That’ll be all,” I dismissed, and Dem gave a firm nod before leaving. Dem exits.

I sit back in my chair, mind spinning. Someone betrayed me.

This wasn’t a simple leak. This was calculated. Personal. And whoever it is—they had access. Real access.

My organization is built to keep things like this from happening. Only a handful of people know how our operation really works. Dem. Victor. David. Sofia. — my inner circle.

It can't be Dem or Victor, they have too much to loose if they betray me.

And they’ve all been with me for years. Since the beginning. They’re more than loyal—they’re extensions of me.

Still, I can’t ignore the facts. Someone got too close. Someone knew exactly what to take and when.

And David and Sofia are family, they would never betray what they run too. Hmm.

I stare out at the city skyline. I'll find them.

And when I do, I’ll make an example out of them so brutal, no one will ever think of crossing me again.

This is my city. I run it.

No one steals from me and lives to tell the story.After a few minutes of brooding silence, I grab my coat.

The office feels suffocating when I can’t point the gun yet.

But soon… I will.

But before I could even get pass my desk my intercom buzzed.

"Sir, you have a visitor."

I raised an eyebrow. "Who is it?"

"Marco Marano."

My grip tightened around my coat .

The head of the Marano family. The spoiled, arrogant face of a legacy he didn’t earn. Here to gloat, no doubt.

"Send him in." I said sitting back down. I placed my coat on my desk .

Marco strolled in and settled into the chair across from me like he owned the place. Back straight. Hands steepled. Trying too hard not to show how worked up he really was.

He didn’t waste time with greetings.

“You need to stop pushing your product into my markets.”

His tone was calm. Too calm.“This is my city , Xavier. It always have been. You know it. Everyone does.”

I didn’t answer.

He kept going.

“You had your time. Your reputation bought you space—but not anymore. The streets don’t talk about you the same way. They talk about me. About what I’m moving. About the results.”

He leaned forward, voice dropping.

“My synthetic opioid is dominating. Fast. Clean. Potent. You're still out here moving whatever legacy trash your chemists cook up in those dusty basements.”

He smirked, but there was heat in it. Real tension.

“You can’t compete with me. Not here. Not now. I’m not warning you again— stay out of my supply routes.”

My supply routes, he means.

The ones I built. The ones he’s hijacked.

The formula he’s pushing? Stolen from me, just that I can't prove it right now, but I will .

Marco thinks this is his city.

Thinks power transferred with his father’s funeral.

But he’s wrong.

He’s nothing like his father. That man was ruthless, strategic. Feared for a reason. But Marco? He’s just another rich boy playing gangster—chasing women, popping bottles, pretending he's already won.

The Marano name used to mean something. A legacy of blood and dominance.

They were the only family that ever came close to threatening ours. But now,with Marco in charge? I don’t have much to fear.

This isn’t his city. It never was.

I let the silence stretch, keeping my expression unreadable. I leaned back in my chair, mirroring his pose. Calm. Deadly. “You’re making a mistake, Marco.”

The only reason he's still breathing is because I want him to watch his kingdom collapse from the front row.

He raised a brow, irritated. “Yeah? What mistake is that?” “You’re assuming I’m not adapting.” Marco snorted, dismissive. “You? Adapt? You’re a relic, Xavier. A rusted name living off fear and nostalgia.”

I smiled—cold, deliberate. “Let me show you adaptation.” I pressed a button on my intercom. “Tell Dem to bring in the Eclipse files.”

That got his attention. His smirk faltered, just for a breath.“What’s Eclipse?”

I leaned forward, locking eyes with him.

“That’s the future. And you’re just in time to witness it.”

He scoffed, trying to recover.

“I’m shaking in my boots, Xavier.”

“You should be.”

There’s no Eclipse file. But he doesn’t need to know that.

He’ll run off and tell the wrong people. Spread whispers. Send someone to find out what it is. Probably that little rat he trusts so much.

And when they come sniffing, we’ll be ready.

Dem walked in with the file—a sleek blue folder he handled like it was radioactive. He always knew how to play the part.

I took it, flipping it open just enough to flash some empty pages.

“Boss,” Dem said low, playing his role perfectly. “I still think it’s a risk showing him this. It’s top-tier.”

Marco’s eyes were glued to it like he could burn through the pages with his mind.

I snapped it shut and handed it right back.

“That’s true, Dem. I just wanted him to know we’re already a hundred steps ahead.”Marco’s gaze followed the file as it left the room.

Let him chase shadows.

Let him fear what doesn’t exist.

That’s what makes people dangerous to themselves.

Marco hesitated. Then, desperate to salvage something, he warned.

“ look Xaiver, whatever shit you have going on, I'll advice you to stop now. Because I will find out and I'll burn in to the ground along side you”.

“ you're not the hero here Marco”.

“Neither am I the monster here. I’ve said all I could…” he drawled as he rose to his feet. “For now. And I want you to remember, Xavier—I’m always ahead of you. I hold the power you don’t.”

The Omertà File.

That's the power he holds.

It isn’t just a file—it’s leverage, blackmail, and control bound into one. it contains the darkest dealings of high-ranking men, the kind of secrets that could topple governments and dismantle dynasties. For years, we’ve tried to get our hands on it, but Marco’s father was a ghost in his own right. It was as if he had poured his very soul into encrypting that file. Untouchable.

Unbreakable.

But now he’s dead. And with his death, the last shield over that file has cracked. This is our chance to claim it. The Omertà File is the only weapon the Maranos still cling to, because their empire has been crumbling ever since their father’s death.

I leaned back again, relaxed, like a king on his throne.

He began smoothing his jacket like he'd still somehow won this meeting.

"This has been... enlightening, Xavier."I nodded once, calm and unbothered.

"Indeed." Marco left without another word.

I sat back, tapping my fingers slowly against the desk. The next move was clear. Find the rat.

Cut the cancer out before it spreads. And when it’s done?

There’ll be nothing left of Marco Marano but a memory.