
BRAKK!
The sound did not come from splintering wood, but from Eduardo’s jaw colliding with the iron knuckles of Claude “The Sark.” Eduardo collapsed onto the wooden planks of the pier, slick with moss and rainwater. His head rang violently. The metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth, mixing with rain that tasted faintly of salt.
“Get up, Eduardo. I don’t think my punch was that hard,” Claude’s voice sounded calm beneath the roar of the storm.
Eduardo coughed, dark red blood spilling from his mouth. He tried to push himself up, but the moment he moved, the world spun violently.
“I told you… give me time, one more week,” Eduardo rasped, wiping blood from his lips with his hand.
One of Claude’s men, a bald thug with a scorpion tattoo on his neck, laughed mockingly while dragging on his cigarette. “One more week, huh, Boss? He said that last week. Same thing last month. Sounds like this loser’s mouth needs to be sewn shut.”
Claude lit his cigarette and crouched in front of Eduardo. He grabbed Eduardo’s rain-soaked hair, forcing him to look into eyes as cold as ice. Claude ruled this old pier. In his hands, human life was worth less than the illegal cargo that came through every night.
“Hey, asshole… I’m a businessman,” Claude muttered, blowing smoke into Eduardo’s face. “Business is about certainty, not sweet promises from trash mouths like yours,” he whispered into Eduardo’s ear.
“Claude… I’ll pay my debt… I will…”
“Shut up, you bastard!”
Buak… Buak!
Eduardo groaned in agony, clutching his stomach where he had just been struck, while Claude shook out the hand he had used to punch him.
“Your debt’s piled up. Just the interest could buy a new car. And now, I want payment. Tonight. Right now,” Claude said with a crooked smile.
“I don’t have any money left, Claude! You took everything!” Eduardo shouted in frustration. His voice was swallowed by thunder cracking in the distance.
Claude took another drag and slowly stood, wiping his hands with a silk handkerchief as if he had touched filth. “I know you don’t have cash. But you’ve got something a lot more valuable at home.”
Eduardo’s heart nearly stopped. “What do you mean?”
“Your wife’s beautiful, Eduardo. Too beautiful to rot in a shitty apartment with a loser like you,” Claude said casually.
“Claude…” Eduardo whispered as he tried to stand, but Claude’s men immediately held him down.
Claude snorted when he saw the fire burning in Eduardo’s eyes. “I just opened a new brothel branch downtown. High-end clientele. Emily will be a star there. Of course, I’ll need to train your wife for a week first, satisfy my appetite. In exchange, your debt’s wiped clean. Fair, right?”
“BASTARD!” Eduardo lunged forward, but two of Claude’s men slammed him down and kicked his stomach, sending him crashing back to the ground.
“You should be grateful,” Claude continued, smoking, ignoring Eduardo’s cries of pain. “Emily will get nice clothes, good food, and she’ll serve people with real money. Better than starving to death with you. She’ll be happier with me.”
“Step over my corpse first, you demon!” Eduardo spat on Claude’s expensive shoes. “I’ll kill you if you touch my wife!” He screamed, struggling with what little strength he had left.
Claude let out a long sigh, disappointment written across his face. “That’s the problem with poor people like you. Big pride, empty brains.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You think you can kill me in your condition?”
Claude signaled with his finger. The bald man stepped forward and handed him a plastic folder filled with documents.
“Sign the collateral transfer agreement,” Claude said coldly. “Or I’ll send my men to your place right now, drag your wife out in front of your kid, and you’ll watch me and my boys take turns using her before I put a bullet in your head.”
Eduardo stared at the document with blurred vision. Emily’s gentle face filled his mind, along with Chloe, his five-year-old daughter. He imagined filthy hands touching them. Rage burned in his chest, eclipsing even his physical pain.
“So, Eduardo? Easy choice. Emily becomes a high-class whore, or you all die tonight,” Claude said, flicking away his cigarette.
Eduardo fell silent. He lowered his head, letting his hair hide his face.
“Okay… I agree,” Eduardo whispered.
Claude grinned with satisfaction and motioned for his men to release him. “That’s more like it. Now that’s a smart head of the family. Come on, sign it.”
The bald man shoved a pen and the document toward Eduardo’s face. Eduardo took them with trembling hands. He drew a deep breath, as if it were his last breath as a man with dignity.
Eduardo looked up. Instead of signing, he gathered all the blood and saliva in his mouth and spat straight into Claude’s handsome face.
Silence fell instantly, broken only by rain pounding against rusted metal around the pier. Claude’s men froze, unable to believe what they had just seen.
Claude closed his eyes. He wiped the spit from his face slowly. His hand trembled, not with fear, but with boiling rage.
“You… just chose the most painful path, Eduardo,” Claude said, his voice shaking with restrained fury.
“I might be a loser, Claude,” Eduardo grinned, blood coating his teeth. “But I’ll never sell my family to a devil like you.”
Claude did not shout. He simply nodded to his men. “Break him. Don’t let him die fast. I want to hear every bone snap, one by one.”
The storm of blows came instantly. Boots smashed into Eduardo’s ribs, forcing the air from his lungs. He curled into a fetal position, trying to protect his head, but they did not stop.
KRAK!
His left arm snapped as he tried to block a kick. Eduardo screamed, but thunder swallowed the sound.
“Die, you worthless trash!” the bald man roared, slamming a pistol grip into Eduardo’s temple.
Darkness took him instantly. He felt his body dragged across rough wood. The smell of the sea grew stronger. He knew what came next.
Claude stepped closer, unzipped his pants, and urinated on Eduardo’s face. “Enjoy your last drink, hero!”
Warm liquid splashed across Eduardo’s face. He tried to fight back, to kick Claude in a final act of defiance, but his body refused to obey his mind. Claude’s men laughed loudly as their boss relieved himself on Eduardo.
“Throw him into the sea,” Claude ordered coldly as he zipped up and jerked his chin. “Tomorrow morning, pick up Emily. Tell her her husband became shark food. If she doesn’t come quietly, you know what to do.”
“Yes, Boss!”
Two thugs lifted Eduardo’s limp body, swung him a few times, then hurled him over the pier railing.
For a brief moment, Eduardo felt weightless, before icy seawater swallowed him whole. The burning pain faded into a terrifying numbness. He sank deeper, farther from the dim pier lights above.
His lungs burned as oxygen ran out. Saltwater flooded his nose and mouth. In the pitch-black depths, only one thought remained.
“Emily… Chloe… forgive me. I was a useless husband and father.”
His consciousness began to fade. His heartbeat slowed. At the edge of death, regret crushed him harder than his shattered bones. He needed power. He needed a miracle. He wanted to slaughter them all.
Suddenly, in the total darkness, Eduardo’s chest flared with blinding light, and a cold yet authoritative mechanical voice echoed directly inside his mind, as if splitting his soul.
[CONDITION MET: TOTAL DESPAIR DETECTED.]
[ACTIVATING PROTOCOL: EQUIVALENT EXCHANGE.]
Eduardo’s body sank deeper toward the ocean floor beneath the pier, and with his next breath, his consciousness was violently torn into a completely different dimension.
Latest Chapter
Ch 59. Fracture
Rain poured over the city, masking the trail of a black SUV cutting through the central district toward Sark Tower. Inside the soundproof cabin, Eduardo sat back with his eyes closed. In his hand, he still held the wooden box Vladimir had given him. The metallic stench of blood from the dog’s head seemed to seep through the wood, filling his lungs with a very real warning of death. “Boss, are we really bringing that upstairs?” Gord asked from the driver’s seat. His eyes flicked nervously to the box through the rearview mirror. “No,” Eduardo’s voice was low, almost ghostlike. “Open the trunk when we reach the underground parking. Leave it there for now. I don’t want Chloe to see it.” “I think Vladimir’s declaring full-scale war, Ed,” Belerik added, his fingers moving quickly across his tablet. “Just got a report, two of our casinos in the west sector got hit by tax agents. Vladimir’s reach goes into the government. He’s not just playing with bullets, he’s playing the sy
Ch 58. Lunch of Kings
The sharp clink of silverware against porcelain rang through the silence of La Luna. Don Vladimir had just finished the last cut of his medium-rare wagyu steak. He dabbed the corner of his lips with a white linen napkin as if there weren’t a sniper rifle possibly trained on his skull from two kilometers away. Eduardo remained still. He hadn’t touched the red wine in his glass. His sunken, bloodshot eyes stayed fixed on Vladimir, trying to dissect whatever lay behind that kindly old man’s face. “You know, Eduardo,” Vladimir broke the silence in smooth Italian, his gaze sharp as a razor, “most men in your position would pull the trigger the moment they stepped into this room. They think courage is measured by how quickly you can kill. But you… you sit here, speak my language fluently, and wait for me to finish my meal. That’s rispetto. Respect.” Eduardo leaned back against the heavy wooden chair. “I didn’t come here to make a lunch date, Don. I came to define my territor
Ch 57. A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
That morning, on the top floor of Sark Tower, the air felt colder than usual. Not because the AC was set too low, but because of an ivory-white envelope sealed with red wax, stamped with the head of a wolf, lying on Eduardo’s desk. It didn’t explode. It wasn’t poisoned. But what it contained was far deadlier than any high-caliber bullet. “He wants a meeting, Ed. Neutral ground. Restaurant ‘La Luna’ on the edge of the city,” Belerik said, pacing back and forth, his fingers tapping nonstop against his tablet. “This is a trap. I’d bet my kidney on it. A pure trap.” Eduardo stared at the envelope, eyes hollow. “Vladimir isn’t Claude, Rik. He doesn’t need cheap tricks to kill me. If he wanted me dead, he’d just send a squadron of the Praetorians to level this building.” “But ‘diplomacy’ is just mafia code for digging your grave,” Gord cut in, cleaning his shotgun in the corner. “We should hit them first, Boss. My luck’s been great lately.” “No,” Eduardo shook his head s
Ch 56. The School of Monsters
The morning sunlight that streamed through the glass windows of Sark Tower felt razor sharp, stabbing into Eduardo’s eyes, still sensitive from the lingering migraine caused by yesterday’s ordeal in his subconscious. He sat at his desk, staring at a glass of water and a stack of untouched intelligence reports. His mind kept echoing his grandfather’s words. Your vessel is already cracked. You need a blood heir. The office door opened quietly. Belerik stepped in, his face more worn than usual. He wasn’t carrying financial reports this time. “Ed, you feeling any better?” Belerik asked as he sat across from him. “Just get to it, Rik. What is it?” Eduardo replied flatly. His voice was hoarse, thick with exhaustion. Belerik let out a long breath and scratched his head. “St. Jude International. Chloe’s school. The principal just called me… five times in one hour. They want you there right now. There’s a ‘serious incident.’” Eduardo pinched the bridge of his nose.
Ch 55. The Grandfather’s Ultimatum
The world felt like it was being dragged into a narrow drain. Eduardo couldn’t feel his fingers, couldn’t feel his own heartbeat. There was only a low, humming silence. Then, slowly, the smell of aged wood and neglected library dust crept into his senses. Eduardo opened his eyes. He was no longer in the smoking ruins of the casino. He stood in an endless white room filled with piles of antiques, wall clocks ticking out of sync, and photo albums floating in the air. At the center of the room, sitting in a creaking rocking chair, was the “Grandfather.” But this time, he didn’t look eccentric like usual. No sunglasses. No cigar. He sat upright, his eyes glowing red, his aura so oppressive that Eduardo felt his chest tighten. “Are you actually stupid, or do you just not have a brain anymore, Grandson?” the Grandfather’s voice rumbled like restrained thunder. Eduardo tried to stand, but his knees buckled. “I saved my man’s life, asshole. What’s it to you?” “Your man
Ch 54. Luck Running Out?
The dull stench of burned carpet and the metallic tang of fresh blood filled the air inside The Royal Flush casino. Crystal chandeliers that once symbolized luxury now swayed unevenly, casting weak flickers of light before finally shattering under the heat devouring the velvet walls. Gord gasped for breath behind an overturned baccarat table. His expensive white shirt was torn apart, soaked in soot and a widening stain of red across his abdomen. In his hands, a compact Uzi felt impossibly heavy, as if the metal had turned to lead. “Damn… is my luck really out or what?” Gord rasped, trying to cock his weapon. Click. Jammed. “What the fuck! You jam now too, you piece of shit?!” Outside, the sound of steady, tactical footsteps approached. Not the chaotic scrambling of street thugs, but the firm cadence of military boots. The Praetorians. Don Vladimir’s elite force, trained to feel no fear, and more importantly, trained to eliminate targets with machine-like effici
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