“You’re talking like you’re some big shot or what? What do you think you’re going to do? What can you do, huh?” Larusso said, then gave a signal by shaking his thumb three times. Immediately, Larusso’s men raised their guns. But right after, Butcher’s men raised their guns too—aimed at Larusso and his men. Both sides stood tense, aiming at each other. “So now, what’s it going to be? Do you have the guts to shoot?” Butcher said. “I won’t die by a mere bullet. Maybe I’m human, but I won’t die easily. Because I know I’m not a fucking loser like you.” “Well, whatever. Looks like you came in prepared. If you came alone, and you weren’t with any guns, I would’ve killed you immediately. I don’t like you. You’re full of yourself. Things always go your way—good business, good everything. So, I don’t have time for this. And I seriously didn’t have anything to do with your men. So please, leave my house now,” Larusso said. “Are you telling the truth? I told you I’m not a fucking stupid. You h

“I hate it when you’re lying. I also have some of his friends telling me they saw them together, but I’m not sure. So I’m going to do my own investigation,” Richard said on the phone. “You can investigate all you want — you won’t find anything. Keep your hands clean,” Dane replied. “No one cared about you. You wouldn’t be getting this much attention if people didn’t recognize you so quickly. Remember your place. You belong in the dumpster — you street rats,” Richard said. “It looks like you did a background check on me,” Dane said with a faint smirk. “Well, it’s fine. It doesn’t matter.” “Well, I don’t care about that. What I want now is my son. Get me my son. If you can’t bring him to me in time, your mafia, your boss, and every single one of you will be dead. I assure you that,” Richard said. “I’m telling you, mister, we don’t want war. We don’t know what happened to your son, but I’m still doing my research. I’m still searching,” Dane said. “Come work for me. You need to work

Finally, as Dane reached the ship, he froze. Before he could even step inside, he noticed several of his men lying on the ground. Bleeding. Motionless. He rushed forward, crouched beside one of them, and touched his body. Still warm. Dane slowly stood up, his heart pounding. “What the hell is going on?” he muttered. He walked forward cautiously, and that was when he saw them — a group of unfamiliar men standing at the entrance of the ship. Ten of them, lined up in a tight formation. They weren’t Butcher’s men. Dane knew that immediately. If the guards inside the ship had seen them, these guys wouldn’t still be standing. But Dane was caught off guard. He straightened up quickly, his hand reaching for the briefcase that held his M12. Just as he was about to open it, one of the men raised a hand. “Stop. We didn’t come here to fight,” the man said. “We’re just here to give you some information.” Dane narrowed his eyes. “Who are you people? What are you doing here?” The ma

“That’s not the problem,” butcher said. “The problem is finding Ben, and I’ve already given you that mission. So for now, go and rest. Continue the search for Ben tomorrow.” “Yes, sir,” dane replied. Dane turned around. Finally, let me get something to eat, he thought to himself. Without another word, Dane walked out of Butcher’s office. As Dane walked through the corridor, he went down the staircase inside the ship. He passed the canteen, where tables were lined up and other men were eating. Some were mafia members — others were already dead. The ones alive paused to stare at him as he passed. Someone muttered, “This dude just came in like a month and a few weeks ago, and he’s already acting like the boss.” Dane heard them but ignored it. He kept walking. He went into the canteen and ordered spaghetti and meatballs. The woman behind the counter handed him the plate, and he sat down to eat. He devoured the food quickly. “I’m so full… my stomach is packed,” Dane muttered after f

Quietly, the man walked ahead, already in pain, already scared. He moved slowly, trying to find a spot where he could leave a subtle trail — a signal — while Dane still had the gun pointed at him. At one point, the man discreetly used his thumb to signal two nearby men. It was barely noticeable — a small movement — and Dane didn’t catch it. The two men he signaled didn’t react right away either. The man continued walking, leading Dane out the back of the casino. “So now,” Dane said, keeping the gun steady, “we’re going to talk.” He shoved the man against the wall. “Tell me what happened. Have you seen a kid named Ben? What do you know about him?” The man shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t care what happened to some kid I’ve never heard of.” Dane’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’m a fucking joke?” Smack! He punched the man hard across the face. Then again. And again. The man’s nose split open, blood pouring down over his lips. Dane kept punching — two minutes, then three. By the end