One Hundred Four

Under the flickering streetlights, the sound of gunfire shattered the silence, filling the air with chaos and bloodshed. In the distance, one of Antonio's casinos burned, flames licking at the sky as the structure crumbled. The weapons warehouse—used to store The Silver Thorn’s vast arsenal—had been reduced to rubble after a sudden and ruthless attack by Nuovo Ordine. On streets littered with burning cars and shattered glass, a full-scale war was raging.

“They’re targeting our districts one by one,”

Marcus said grimly, both hands pressed firmly against the massive table in Antonio’s war room.

“The Bronx armory is gone. They executed everyone inside.”

Antonio sat in his chair, one hand loosely holding a half-burnt cigarette, his face unreadable. Beneath the stillness, his fury burned like an untamed storm.

“How many casualties?” His voice was low—too low.

That was the most dangerous tone. Lorenzo, one of his most trusted lieutenants, clenched his jaw.

“Seven dead. Three critical. One still unaccounted for.”

Antonio’s fingers drummed idly against the table, his cold eyes scanning the room. No one spoke. The tension in the air was suffocating.

“Gather our men.”

His voice remained calm, but the underlying rage was palpable.

“They think they can take our city? Let’s show them who it really belongs to.”

The Silver Thorn Mafia moved out swiftly. Blacked-out SUVs and armored vehicles tore through the Bronx like shadows hunting prey. As soon as they arrived—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A barrage of bullets rained down on them. Nuovo Ordine had been expecting them. They weren’t planning to retreat.

“TAKE COVER!”

Lorenzo shouted, diving behind a bullet-ridden car.

BANG! BANG! BANG!!

Gunfire echoed from both sides. It was a brutal standoff—both groups refusing to back down. Antonio stepped out of his vehicle with an eerie calm, his perfectly tailored black suit untouched by the chaos. Marcus ducked behind cover, firing off rounds before glancing at his boss.

“Boss, we can’t hold this position for long! They’ve got the high ground on us!”

Antonio said nothing. Instead, he simply raised his pistol, aimed at a Nuovo Ordine soldier perched on the second floor of a crumbling building—

BANG!

The bullet hit the man square in the forehead. His body crumpled, crashing onto the asphalt below. Antonio exhaled, unfazed.

“Kill every last one of them. No survivors.”

Lorenzo slid over next to Marcus, cursing under his breath as bullets whizzed past them.

“Shit! They’ve got more numbers than we thought!”

Marcus growled.

“Of course they do! They’ve been planning this for months!”

While his men exchanged fire, Antonio kept walking forward, unshaken, each shot he fired hitting its mark. Blood splattered across the pavement. Bodies dropped. Yet, Nuovo Ordine refused to retreat. A figure emerged from the shadows—a man in a black mask, holding an automatic rifle. Without hesitation, he unleashed a stream of bullets toward Antonio. Antonio ducked behind a concrete pillar.

“SNIPER! LEFT BUILDING!” Marcus yelled.

Antonio didn’t hesitate. He lifted his gun and shot out the nearest streetlamp—

BANG!

The light shattered, exposing the sniper’s position. Marcus didn’t waste a second. One shot. Straight through the head. The sniper’s body slumped against the window frame before toppling over. Antonio exhaled, flicking ash from his cigarette.

“Finish the rest.”

His men pushed forward, wiping out the last remaining Nuovo Ordine members. It should’ve been over. But then— A wounded Nuovo Ordine soldier, barely able to stand, reached into his jacket. Marcus was the first to notice. His eyes widened in horror.

“BOMB! GET BACK!”

BOOM!

The explosion erupted through the street, a fireball tearing through metal and flesh alike. The shockwave sent Antonio and his men flying backward, debris raining down like shrapnel. Antonio hit the ground hard, his vision blurring for a second before he forced himself back up. His ears rang, and smoke choked the air. Marcus groaned beside him, shaking off the dust and blood.

“Boss, you okay?”

Antonio wiped a streak of blood from his temple, his eyes burning with something dark.

“Find out who gave them those explosives.”

His voice was ice-cold.

“And when you do, bring me their fucking head.”

Dust and smoke filled the air, suffocating and blinding. As Antonio stood up, his sharp eyes scanned the destruction in front of him. Lorenzo staggered forward, panting.

“They’re crazier than we thought. They don’t fear death.”

Antonio clenched his jaw.

“They’d rather die than lose. This isn’t just a power struggle. This runs deeper than that.”

Marcus approached, blood still trickling down his temple from the shockwave of the blast.

“What’s the next move, Boss?”

Antonio looked at the burning buildings, listening to the distant wail of police sirens approaching. Then, in a voice so calm it was terrifying, he said,

“We don’t retreat. We send our best men and we hit them where it hurts.”

The Silver Thorn Headquarters – A Strategy for Revenge The tension in the war room was thick, pressing down on everyone present. Antonio stood at the center of the round table, his piercing gaze locked onto five men standing before him. These weren’t ordinary foot soldiers. They were his elite strike team—men trained in assassination, infiltration, and guerrilla warfare.

“The mission is clear,”

Antonio’s deep voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“Find, hunt, and eradicate Nuovo Ordine. No exceptions. I want every last one of them dead before they have the chance to warn their leaders.”

Lorenzo smirked, cracking his knuckles.

“Finally, some real fun. You want it quiet or loud?” Antonio lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag before exhaling a stream of smoke.

“Whichever way terrifies them the most.”

The five men exchanged glances, then nodded.

“Understood, Boss.”

Marcus scanned the team, ensuring they grasped the gravity of the situation.

“You leave in an hour. Intel shows several Nuovo Ordine members frequenting a warehouse district in South Manhattan.”

Antonio turned to Marcus, eyes cold and calculating.

“While they clean up the streets, I’m hunting down the real mastermind.”

Antonio had suspected for a long time that Nuovo Ordine couldn’t have grown without internal backing. And tonight, he finally had proof of who had been funding them. Senator Vincent Moretti. A well-respected politician, a so-called man of the people—but behind the scenes, he was laundering money for Nuovo Ordine, ensuring their operations remained untouched by the law. Antonio wasted no time. A Senator’s Final Meal In an upscale restaurant in the heart of the city, Moretti sat at a table, enjoying a lavish meal with a much younger woman draped over his arm. He had no idea his night was about to take a very different turn. Two massive men in suits loomed nearby, their sharp gazes ensuring that no one dared to approach. Moretti was mid-conversation when a cold chill ran down his spine. He glanced up— And froze. Standing just a few feet away was Antonio Franches, dressed in an all-black suit, his eyes piercing like a blade. Moretti’s heart pounded violently.

“A-Antonio…” he stammered.

“What—”

Antonio didn’t let him finish. With a simple flick of his fingers, his men grabbed Moretti, yanking him from his seat. Gasps echoed across the restaurant, but no one dared intervene. Moretti struggled, his protests drowned out as he was dragged outside, shoved into the back of a sleek black car. Interrogation in a Dark Warehouse The heavy clanking of chains echoed through the dimly lit warehouse. Moretti sat tied to a chair, his breath ragged, sweat dripping down his face. Antonio stood in front of him, expression unreadable, a silent executioner waiting for a confession.

“Tell me, Moretti,” Antonio’s voice was eerily calm.

“How much have you funneled into Nuovo Ordine?”

Moretti swallowed hard.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wrong answer.

BANG!

A gunshot ripped through Moretti’s kneecap. He screamed, body convulsing from the searing pain. Antonio crouched in front of him, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Let’s try this again.”

“I—I’m just a middleman!”

Moretti gasped, chest heaving.

“I just move the money! I don’t know much!”

Antonio sighed.

BANG!

Another shot—this time, the other knee. Moretti’s wretched screams filled the warehouse. Antonio tilted his head, tapping the gun against Moretti’s forehead.

“I don’t have time for lies.”

Moretti gasped, his face pale from blood loss.

“Okay! OKAY! I’ll talk!”

Antonio leaned in, his voice a whisper of death.

“Then start talking.”

Moretti’s breath came in short, pained gasps.

“They… They have a main hideout… Warehouse 17 at the South Docks.”

Antonio’s eyes narrowed.

“Who’s calling the shots?”

Moretti hesitated. Antonio cocked his gun, pressing the barrel against his skull. Moretti broke.

“Leonardo Franches.”

Antonio froze. For the first time in years, he was the one caught off guard. Leonardo Franches. His half-brother. Standing in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of his private office, Antonio overlooked the glittering cityscape. His fists clenched at his sides, every muscle in his body rigid. Behind him, Marcus and Lorenzo stood in tense silence, watching as Antonio’s expression darkened. Leonardo Franches. A name he hadn’t spoken in a decade. A name that should have been buried along with the past. And now—his own blood was the mastermind behind Nuovo Ordine. Antonio took a slow breath, his rage coiled like a predator ready to strike. Marcus finally spoke.

“Boss… What’s the plan?”

Antonio exhaled slowly, then turned, his eyes cold as death itself.

“We kill them all.”

"Leonardo Franches,"

Antonio murmured, his voice barely a whisper. Marcus nodded grimly.

"He's alive, Boss. And he's the mastermind behind Nuovo Ordine."

Antonio turned slowly, his gaze cold and brimming with hatred.

"I saw him die. I saw the bullets tear through his body."

Marcus inhaled deeply.

"He disappeared for years, but now we know—he never truly died. He hid, built his army, and now he's back to destroy you."

Lorenzo added,

"And worse than that, he doesn’t just want to take you down, Antonio. He wants to erase The Silver Thorn from history."

Antonio clenched his jaw.

"So all of this was his doing? The war in the districts, the destruction of The Crimson Lotus, and maybe even the betrayals around me?"

Marcus gave a slow nod.

"Yes. He’s been planning this for a long time, Boss. He was just waiting for the right moment to strike."

Antonio exhaled, his eyes darkening with the memories he had buried deep inside.

Flashback –

The Night of Betrayal Rain pounded against the grand mansion’s courtyard that night. Seventeen-year-old Antonio stood at the edge of the corridor, breath held as he witnessed the most horrifying moment of his life. In the lavish living room, his father—Don Alberto Franches—stood, blood splattered across his pristine suit. Across from him, Leonardo Franches, his half-brother, held a gun aimed directly at the old man’s chest.

"You're too old to lead, Father,"

Leonardo said, voice cold and void of remorse.

"And I won’t let Antonio take your throne. It should’ve been mine!"

Don Alberto’s gaze held disappointment rather than fear.

"Leonardo… You don’t understand what you’re doing."

"I know exactly what I’m doing."

BANG!

A gunshot rang through the hall. Antonio flinched, his fingers curling into the marble wall as he watched his father fall—his body convulsing before hitting the floor with a sickening thud. A pool of crimson spread beneath him, staining the pristine white tiles. Antonio’s breath caught in his throat.

No. No, no, no. Leonardo took a step forward, his gun still raised, ready to fire again to ensure the kill. But before he could pull the trigger, shouts erupted outside. Don Alberto’s loyal guards had realized the betrayal. Leonardo stiffened, realizing his plan had failed. Without hesitation, he turned and ran into the stormy night, leaving behind the lifeless body of their father…

And leaving Antonio forever haunted by that moment.

Present Day –

A Vengeance That Never Died Antonio’s eyes snapped open, his breath slow but heavy. The past felt so real, as if it had happened just seconds ago. His brother had murdered their father right in front of him. And now, Leonardo was back to finish what he had started. Antonio strode toward his desk, planting both hands on the smooth wooden surface.

"Leonardo wants to take The Silver Thorn? He thinks he can erase what I built?"

His dark gaze lifted, piercing straight through Marcus and Lorenzo.

"We won’t wait for them to strike again. We will burn them to the ground first."

Marcus nodded.

"What’s the plan, Boss?"

Antonio exhaled, then stated,

"Find out where Leonardo is hiding. Burn every place he could use as a sanctuary. Leave him nowhere to run. I want him crawling to me."

Lorenzo smirked.

"We can start with the districts they took from us. We can send a team there tonight."

Antonio’s lips curled into a cruel smile.

"I want blood, Marcus. I want Leonardo to know I’m still here… and I won’t stop until he’s dead at my feet."

Marcus sighed, then murmured,

"You know, Boss… He’s probably planning something for you too."

Antonio’s smirk deepened.

"Good. Let’s see who’s better prepared to die."

Cassandra pushed a shopping cart down the grocery aisle, her eyes scanning the shelves for ingredients needed for the police department’s celebratory dinner. Today was supposed to be a happy occasion—Alexander had just been promoted, and the entire precinct was gathering to celebrate. Beside her, Alexander walked casually, looking much healthier since his near-fatal gunshot wound.

“So,”

Cassandra teased, tossing a few vegetables into the cart.

“How does it feel to be a man of higher rank?”

Alexander chuckled, grabbing a carton of milk from the shelf before dropping it into the cart.

"Honestly? Not much different. Still drowning in paperwork, still dealing with criminals, and still knee-deep in a mafia war."

Cassandra let out a deep sigh.

"Yeah… the world’s not getting any better, huh?"

Alexander turned to her, his warm gaze softening. Then, in a voice so sincere it made her heart skip a beat, he said:

"But at least one thing makes it better."

Cassandra frowned slightly. "What’s that?"

Alexander’s smile was warm, gentle.

"You’re here."

Cassandra froze. Her heart pounded faster, but she quickly busied herself, pretending to be too focused on selecting cheeses from the display shelf.

"Don’t try to flirt in public, Alex,"

she murmured, forcing a small smile. Alexander let out a light laugh.

"I’m not flirting, Cassandra. I’m being honest."

She turned to face him, and when their eyes met, her chest tightened. That look. That same look he had always given her—filled with undeniable love. Back then, it had been comforting.

And now…?

It stirred something dangerous inside her. Because deep down, she knew… She was already someone else’s.