All Chapters of The Night Boss: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The precinct carried a different weight when the night crept in. The traffic beyond the frosted windows, the chatter of officers moving between desks, and the hollow ring of telephones—all of it seemed more subdued, muted, as though the building itself knew a storm was about to break inside its walls. Rico wasn’t just another boy in custody. He was the missing link in a puzzle the police had been chasing for years, a living witness tangled in the web of three different men who each claimed dominance over the city’s underworld.The problem wasn’t arresting him, the problem was keeping him—alive, talking, and in one piece.Detective Harris stood at the center of the operations room, sleeves rolled, tie loosened, with a whiteboard full of names, photographs, and question marks behind him. Kroos. Marquez. The Boss. Three names written in bold black marker, each circled in red, each linked to Rico by thick lines drawn across the board. The man they now had in a cell was the only one who ha

The clock ticked past two in the morning, the precinct walls heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional shuffle of officers moving in the hallway. Rico sat in the interrogation room, a bare bulb hanging above his head, his wrists chained to the cold steel of the table. His face was calm, but inside his chest, a storm brewed. He knew what the police wanted; they weren’t after his street crimes, they weren’t after his petty hustling. They wanted something bigger. They wanted names, dates, networks. They wanted him to turn against the very men who had shaped the streets of this city: The Boss, Kroos, Marquez.But Rico stayed silent.Hours had passed since the questioning began. The tall detective had tried his patience, peppering him with questions, circling back, tightening the net with words. The short detective had leaned on him, whispering promises, speaking of deals that could protect him. Yet Rico’s mouth refused to open. Every time a question came, he stared at them with th

Kroos had always prided himself on being a man of instinct. He knew when to move and when to stay put, when to strike and when to step back into the shadows. But tonight—tonight his instincts were fractured, broken into shards that cut into him from every angle. He walked the city streets with his hands jammed deep in his coat pockets, eyes darting to every shadow, every group of men huddled on the corners, every stranger’s face half-lit by the street lamps.He had made a mistake. A monumental one.Reporting Rico to the police had seemed like the only option at the time. The heat was on him; whispers of betrayal were growing louder in the underworld, and the Bosses were circling like vultures. Kroos had thought, in a moment of desperation, that putting Rico in the hands of the law would buy him leverage, or at least time. But now… now it was clear he had set fire to his own foundations.He couldn’t walk into the police station to hear what was happening. If he did, every eye would tur

The city never slept, Salvatore Marquez and his men too. But tonight, for The Boss also, it felt like its pulse had slowed into a suffocating drag. His empire—built on blood, loyalty, and the delicate balance of fear—was shaking. Not from rivals, not from betrayal alone, but because of one boy: Rico.The Boss sat in his study, a room tucked deep into one of his hidden safehouses. A single lamp glowed on the desk, throwing shadows across the stacks of unopened ledgers. His men waited outside, pacing, whispering in the hallway like restless dogs. But The Boss stayed still, leaning forward in his leather chair, a glass of whiskey forgotten in his hand.Rico’s name had filled the air for days now. Arrested. Detained. Whispered through alleys, repeated by corrupt cops who licked their lips at the thought of exploiting him. And behind all of this, there was Kroos.Kroos, who once had been tolerated for his usefulness, had now become a disease. His desperate visit to the police station had t

The following morning, the sun filtered weakly through the barred windows of the central police station. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light, but the brightness couldn’t pierce the mood that draped itself over the building. Every officer who passed through the corridors felt it—the tension, the anticipation, the promise of revelations that could shake the entire underworld of the city. Today, they would finally hear from Rico.Rico sat hunched on the cot in his cell, his body aching from the punishment of the night before. His knuckles were split, his ribs sore, his back burning with the sting of bruises left by the guards who had “reminded” him of his place. He had resisted them, just as he had resisted the endless stream of questions these past days. He had spat at threats, endured fists, and clenched his jaw through hours of silence.But last night broke him.Not because of the beatings—he had endured worse in the streets when hunger clawed at his belly and rival boys wanted h