The mansion was a war zone. Gunfire still echoed, but now it was mostly Max’s men hunting down the last stragglers of the Becker attack. Smoke filled the air, acrid and thick, stinging the eyes. The grand marble floors, once pristine, were now stained with blood and littered with debris.Vincenzo, his side bandaged, stumbled through the chaos, looking for survivors, for answers. He saw Max, his face like thunder, kneeling beside Ronald who still cradled Sarah’s lifeless body. The sight twisted Vincenzo’s gut. This was his home, his family, shattered.He heard a commotion from the east wing. More fighting. He pushed past a wounded guard and made his way towards the sound. He found Bucky, limping badly, cornering a lone Becker man.“Where’s your leader?” Bucky snarled, pressing a gun to the man’s head. “Who sent you here?”The man just sneered. “You’re all dead. Max is too late. The Lucky empire is finished.”“Tell me who’s in charge!” Bucky roared, cocking his pistol.“Magnus,” the man

The air was thick with the smell of smoke and burnt wood. The grand Lucky mansion, once a symbol of power and permanence, was now a smoldering ruin. Firefighters were battling the last stubborn flames, their hoses spraying water that hissed and steamed against the hot stone. Max’s men, grim-faced, moved through the wreckage, securing what little remained.Max stood in the charred main hall, the marble floor still slick with water and blood. Ronald was still there, a silent sentinel beside Sarah’s covered body. His face was a mask of grief, his eyes distant. Bucky and Sarai, both bandaged and limping, stood nearby, their faces etched with exhaustion and sorrow. Vincenzo, his side throbbing, watched the scene, a hollow ache in his chest.Max turned, his gaze sweeping over his remaining family. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were now clouded with a deep weariness.“What happened here?” Max’s voice was low, almost a whisper, but it cut through the din of the fire engines. “I wan

The third shot echoed, a muted pop in the opulent silence of Vincenzo’s penthouse. It was a sound Ferdinand knew intimately, a sound that always signaled the end. Vincenzo’s body crumpled, hitting the polished marble floor with a dull, sickening thud. His eyes, wide and vacant, stared up at the ceiling, reflecting the distant city lights. The blood, a dark, rich crimson, began to bloom on the pristine surface, a stark contrast to the sterile luxury.Ferdinand "Kill Shot" stood over the fallen man, his breath even, his heart rate steady. There was no tremor in his hand, no flicker of doubt in his cold, intelligent eyes. He didn’t feel triumph, not exactly. It was more a profound sense of completion, like closing a book after a very long, arduous read. The debt, long overdue, was finally paid. His men. His family. All avenged.He reached down, a gloved hand checking Vincenzo’s carotid artery. Nothing. Just a limp, cooling form. He nodded once, a small, almost imperceptible gesture of fi

The meeting was held in a neutral warehouse on the docks, a place that smelled of salt and old fish. It was cold, damp, and perfectly suited for tense negotiations. Max walked in, flanked by Sarai and Bucky. He wore a simple black suit, but it felt like armour. He could feel the weight of their expectations, the hope that he would be the Max Lucky they knew.Vanekan Moretti sat at a long, scarred table, two of his own men behind him. He was a thin, sharp-faced man with eyes that missed nothing. He smiled, but it was a cold, humourless smile."Max Lucky," Vanekan said, rising. "My condolences on your loss. A terrible tragedy. Your beautiful home... and your wife."Max just nodded, his face a mask. He didn't trust Vanekan's sympathy."Please, sit," Vanekan gestured to the opposite side of the table. "We have much to discuss. These... unfortunate events... they have created certain... instabilities."They sat. Max kept his gaze steady, meeting Vanekan's eyes."The East End," Vanekan bega

The air hung thick with the smell of damp ash and burnt timber. What was once the grand Lucky mansion was now a skeletal ruin, a gaping wound in the earth. Max stood at the edge of the perimeter, watching the crew move like ants through the wreckage. Heavy machinery groaned, sifting through mountains of debris, while men in hard hats and dust masks picked through smaller piles by hand. The sun, a pale disc in the smoky sky, offered little warmth."Anything yet, Jake?" Max called out to a foreman, his voice hoarse.Jake, a burly man with soot smudged across his face, shook his head. "Just more of the same, boss. Twisted metal, broken stone. Fire did a real number on this place."Max nodded, his gaze sweeping over the devastation. His eyes lingered on a section of the collapsed structure, a place where a grand bay window once overlooked the gardens. That was where Sarah's study had been. He felt an odd pull towards it, a quiet hum beneath the grief and anger.Sarai walked up beside him,