Ryan Alessandro didn't trust coincidences.
So he dug.
And when Ryan dug… secrets bled.
His sharp eyes scanned the files spread across his desk, each piece of intel painting a clearer picture.
"A big deal…" he muttered under his breath. "Selling the city's territory to the highest bidder."
His lips curved slightly.
"The buyer… the Italian syndicate. The Morenos."
That was all he needed.
Within minutes, his network came alive.
Strings were pulled.
Cops on payroll were activated.
Spies melted into the shadows.
Hackers tore through firewalls like paper.
And in just a few hours—
Everything about Alex was laid bare.
Phone records.
Bank transfers.
Meeting logs.
Nothing was hidden anymore.
Lucian leaned over his shoulder, scanning the information with a quiet whistle.
"This guy's sloppy, boss."
Ryan's eyes gleamed, cold and calculating.
"Desperate too."
A soft chuckle escaped him.
Then—
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.
"I have plans for him."
He leaned back, tapping the file lightly.
"I want to see Alex… one more time."
Lucian understood instantly.
A grin tugged at his lips.
"Let's do this, boss."
The restaurant was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of place where deals were made… and people disappeared.
Alex was already seated when Ryan arrived.
The moment their eyes met—
Tension snapped tight between them.
They shook hands.
Sat opposite each other.
Lucian remained standing beside Ryan, silent… watchful.
A shadow.
Ryan didn't waste time.
"I know about your business," he said smoothly.
Alex stiffened.
"Smuggling arms from Rifesta."
Silence.
Heavy.
Crushing.
Ryan leaned back, his expression calm—too calm.
"How… do you know about my business?" Alex asked, his voice tight despite his attempt to sound composed.
Ryan smiled.
Not kindly.
"And your deal with the Morenos," he continued, ignoring the question. "Supplying them ten thousand arms every year…"
A pause.
"For seventy million dollars."
Alex froze.
His composure cracked.
"How do you know that?" he demanded, panic flickering in his eyes.
Ryan's gaze sharpened.
"I don't think you want the answer to that."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping—
Colder.
More dangerous.
"I'm here for business."
A beat.
"I want eighty percent."
The words hit like a gunshot.
Alex blinked.
Then scoffed.
"You think we'd agree to that?"
Ryan's expression didn't change.
"I don't need your agreement."
He leaned closer, his eyes locking onto Alex's like a predator closing in.
"I take first…"
A pause.
"Then I ask."
The air turned suffocating.
Alex's jaw tightened.
Anger.
Fear.
Humiliation.
All colliding at once.
"You came into my city," Ryan continued softly, "made deals behind my back… and thought I wouldn't notice?"
A faint smile.
"Now you owe me."
The silence stretched.
Then—
"No deal," Alex said firmly.
Ryan didn't react immediately.
He just… smiled.
A thin, dangerous line.
"When I come back…"
He stood up slowly.
"It'll be your funeral."
Alex felt it.
That wasn't a threat.
It was a promise.
But Ryan wasn't done.
As he turned to leave, he paused—
Then dropped the final blow.
"Oh… and one more thing."
Alex's breath hitched.
"I know about the shipment arriving tonight."
Ryan glanced back, his eyes cold enough to freeze blood.
"Italy isn't safe for traitors."
Alex's world tilted.
Fear crawled up his spine.
Cold.
Unforgiving.
Ryan walked out.
Lucian followed.
Neither looked back.
They didn't need to.
Moments later—
Alex exploded.
He stormed into Rowan's hideout, rage twisting his face.
"That bastard!" he snapped. "Alessandro is squeezing me dry—eighty percent!"
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing.
"And he knows about the shipment."
Rowan, seated in the shadows, looked up slowly.
Interested.
Dangerous.
"You want me to handle him?"
Alex stopped.
Turned.
His eyes burned with desperation.
He nodded.
And just like that—
The line had been crossed.