2026-02-09 20:05:36Inside the cramped bathroom, damp and reeking of cheap floor cleaner, Emily clutched Chloe so tightly she could feel her daughter’s heart hammering wildly against her chest. They were crouched in the corner, behind a thin, fragile plastic door.
“Mama… why are they yelling?” Chloe whispered, her voice hoarse from too much crying. “Where’s Papa? Papa said he was coming home with ice cream.”
Emily bit her lip until she tasted blood, forcing herself to hold back her sobs so no sound would escape.
“Papa is on his way, sweetheart. Papa’s buying the biggest ice cream for Chloe. Now close your ears, okay? Just pretend we’re playing hide and seek with Papa’s friends.”
BAM. CRASH.
The pounding on their apartment door grew more brutal. Each impact felt like a sledgehammer slamming into Emily’s chest. She knew the wooden door would not hold much longer.
“Hey! Emily! I know you’re in there, pretty!” a man’s raspy voice shouted from outside. “Don’t make this hard. Come out now or I tear this place apart and rape you in front of your kid!”
“Open the door, bitch! Your man’s already dead, crab food!” another voice chimed in, followed by loud laughter. “Now your body belongs to my boss, and nobody’s gonna know if I take a little taste first!”
CRACK.
The sound of splintering wood and snapping hinges told them their last line of defense had collapsed. Emily squeezed her eyes shut and hugged Chloe even tighter. Heavy footsteps entered their small living room.
“Damn, this place stinks,” muttered a thick built man named Marco. He kicked over the small dining table. “Find her. She’s gotta be hiding in the bedroom or the kitchen.”
“Boss, look at this. A picture of her husband,” Slim said, a skinny thug with yellowed teeth, holding up a framed photo of Eduardo. “How does a loser with a face like this get a supermodel wife? Life’s really unfair.”
CRASH.
Slim slammed the frame to the floor and ground Eduardo’s face beneath his dirty boot.
“Emily… oh Emily… come on out, sweetheart,” Marco said as he paced the room, dragging his baseball bat across the concrete floor, the scraping sound piercing and cruel. “I don’t wanna get rough. If you behave, maybe I’ll give you a nice warm up before I deliver you to Boss Claude.”
“Bathroom, Marco! It’s locked from the inside!” Slim shouted from the narrow hallway.
Emily’s heart nearly stopped. She stared at the bathroom door as it began to shake.
“Found you,” Marco whispered from the other side. “Come out nicely, beautiful, or I break this down and drag you out naked in front of your kid. Your choice.”
“Go away! Leave us alone!” Emily screamed, forcing courage into her voice. “The police are coming! I already called them!”
Marco laughed loudly, the kind of laugh that crushed courage.
“Police? In this district? You’re hilarious, Emily. The cops here wouldn’t show up even if a bomb went off, let alone to save a loser’s widow like you. Besides, who’s gonna believe a whore’s report?”
BOOM.
Marco slammed his shoulder into the door. The plastic cracked.
“Mama, I’m scared…” Chloe whimpered, struggling in Emily’s arms.
“Shh… Chloe, close your eyes. Don’t open them, sweetheart. Mama’s here,” Emily whispered through tears.
BOOM.
The door burst open. Marco stood there with a filthy grin, staring at the helpless pair. He licked his lips when he saw Emily’s thin nightgown.
“Well, well… look at this, Slim. We even got a little bonus toy,” Marco said, his gaze sliding toward Chloe in a way that made Emily’s blood boil.
“Don’t touch my child, you bastard!” Emily stood up, trying to block Marco with her trembling body.
Marco grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the bathroom wall, her head cracking against the tiles.
“Listen up. You’ve got nobody left. Eduardo’s dead. He died like a dog on the pier. Now you’re just a piece of meat to pay off that useless man’s debt.”
“Eduardo… he’s not dead… he just called me!” Emily screamed into Marco’s face.
Marco froze for a second, then burst out laughing along with Slim behind him.
“A call? Hahaha. Must’ve been his ghost calling from hell. I saw him beaten to death myself by Boss Claude. Stop hallucinating.”
Marco yanked Emily by the hair, dragging her out into the living room. Chloe screamed hysterically and tried to grab Marco’s leg, but Slim viciously kicked the little girl, sending her flying into the sofa.
“CHLOE!” Emily screamed. “Let me go, bastard! Do whatever you want to me, just don’t touch my child!”
“Oh, don’t worry. We’re definitely gonna do whatever we want to you,” Slim said as he stepped closer, his hand sliding toward Emily’s exposed thigh as her gown rode up. “But this kid’s too noisy. Maybe I should tape her mouth shut so we can focus.”
Marco threw Emily onto the filthy living room floor, littered with shards of Eduardo’s shattered photo frame. He stepped on her hair, forcing her face toward the broken doorway.
“Look at that door, Emily. Nobody’s coming to save you. No hero, no loser husband, just us,” Marco said as he crouched down, roughly grabbing her face. “I wonder if Eduardo ever made you scream and climax over and over like I’m gonna do tonight,” he hissed, kissing her cheek and brutally groping her chest.
“Eduardo will kill all of you…” Emily whispered, hatred blazing in her eyes as she slapped his hand away, but she was too weak.
“Hahaha. Eduardo? That pier loser?” Marco sneered, squeezing her chest again. “He couldn’t even stand straight in front of me without shaking.”
Marco stared at Emily’s furious glare, finding it intoxicating.
“The only thing your man’s doing now is rotting at the bottom of the sea, and the only thing you can do is enjoy my touch and choke on my manhood with that cute little mouth.”
Marco shoved himself close to Emily’s face.
“Come on. Unzip me.”
“Mama… Mama…” Chloe cried, unable to watch anymore.
Emily ignored Chloe’s screams. She refused to let her daughter see her beg or break. If she had to die, she would die without being defiled in front of her child.
Emily spat on Marco’s pants.
“Disgusting. I’d rather die than suck your rotten piece of trash.”
“Bitch!” Marco snarled, releasing her chest and raising his hand in fury.
Emily closed her eyes, waiting for the slap. She felt her life was over, that she had failed to protect Chloe. The ruin felt real, thick, suffocating.
But the slap never came.
Instead, Emily heard a gunshot.
BANG.
The deafening blast echoed from the corridor outside the shattered door.
Blood and fragments of brain sprayed across the floor near Emily.
Slim, who had been standing near the door laughing, suddenly lost the top half of his head. His body remained upright for a second before collapsing like a sack of grain.
Silence.
The world seemed to stop. There was only a ringing in Emily’s ears and the sound of Marco’s breath catching in terror.
“What… what the hell…” Marco stammered as he turned toward the doorway now swallowed by shadow.
There stood a man.
His clothes were soaked, clinging to a body that looked broader yet stiff. His face was deathly pale, his eyes burning red beneath wet strands of hair. In his right hand, a Glock 17 still smoked faintly.
He did not look human. He looked like a devil crawling out of the grave to collect vengeance.
“Eduardo?” Emily whispered, barely audible.
The figure stepped into the room. Each step left trails of seawater mixed with blood on the floor. He did not look at Emily. His gaze was locked on Marco, whose foot was still planted in his wife’s hair.
“What did you just say about me?” Eduardo’s voice was low, hoarse, and utterly inhuman. “Say it again. I didn’t hear you.”
Marco trembled violently. He tried to reach for the pistol at his waist, but his hands were paralyzed by terror.
“No… no way… you’re dead! I saw you thrown away!”
Eduardo tilted his head slightly, staring at Marco as if he were an insect.
“You’re not wrong. The Eduardo you knew is dead. Unfortunately, hell rejected me. Said I still had some lives to collect tonight.”
Eduardo raised the pistol and aimed it straight at Marco’s groin.
“Now move your filthy foot off my wife’s hair before I make sure you can never have children again,” Eduardo hissed.
“Whoa… calm down, Eduardo! We can talk about this!” Marco shouted, hands raised. “It was Claude’s order! I was just doing my job!”
“Wrong answer,” Eduardo said coldly.
BANG.
“AAAAAARRGGHHH!” Marco screamed as the bullet tore into his right thigh, dropping him onto the broken glass.
Eduardo walked closer, his movements calm, predatory. Ignoring Marco’s screams, he glanced briefly at Emily.
“Emily, take Chloe. Go into the bedroom, close the door, and don’t come out until I call you,” Eduardo ordered, his expression blank.
“Eduardo… are you… are you okay?” Emily stared at her husband with a new kind of fear. This was not the gentle Eduardo she knew. This was a monster wearing her husband’s skin.
“Go. Now,” Eduardo snapped, his voice rising, cold and absolute.
Emily scrambled to Chloe, who was still shaking on the sofa, and ran into the bedroom. As soon as the door closed, Eduardo turned back to Marco, who was crawling across the floor, trying to escape through the window.
“Where do you think you’re going, tough guy?” Eduardo stepped on Marco’s hand as it reached for the window frame.
CRACK.
“I’m just getting started,” Eduardo whispered with a grin as a black aura began to coil around his body.
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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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