The new sheriff

Elias and Karma Zobkov – A Dangerous Connection

The night air outside The Golden Mirage Casino was thick with cigarette smoke and the lingering scent of whiskey. Inside, the world spun in a haze of neon lights, flashing slot machines, and murmured conversations. Elias sat at the bar, his glass of bourbon untouched, his mind occupied with questions that had no answers.

"You drink like a man who's thinking too much," came a familiar voice.

Elias turned slightly, finding Karma Zobkov sliding onto the stool beside him. She was dressed in a silk blouse and dark jeans tonight, a contrast to the elegance of their last meeting. But there was still that unmistakable presence about her—an air of confidence mixed with the scent of danger.

Elias smirked. "And you talk like a woman who knows too much."

Karma grinned, signaling the bartender for a drink. "It's a skill of mine." She turned her gaze to him. "You're an interesting man, Elias. And I don't say that lightly."

He studied her for a moment. "And why's that?"

"Because you're a man caught between two worlds," she said, twirling the rim of her glass. "On one side, you work for Dominic Graves, a man who doesn't let go of his weapons unless they're broken. On the other side, I see something else in you—hesitation, doubt, maybe even regret."

Elias exhaled. "Regret?"

"Or revenge," Karma said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elias stiffened slightly, his fingers tightening around his glass. "And what makes you think I want revenge?"

Karma leaned in closer, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. "Because I've seen men like you before. Men who serve under a king but dream of slitting his throat."

Elias held her gaze for a long moment. "You don't know me."

"Maybe not," Karma said, taking a slow sip of her drink. "But tell me something, Elias—do you trust Dominic Graves?"

The silence between them was thick with unspoken truths.

Elias finally looked away, taking a sip of his bourbon. "Trust isn't something you afford in this world."

Karma studied him, a mixture of amusement and curiosity in her expression. "One day, you'll have to make a choice. Stay his dog or bite the hand that feeds you."

Elias let the words settle in his mind, even as he changed the subject, leading them into other conversations—about the city, about the world outside of crime, about things that didn't involve blood and betrayal. As the night passed, their connection deepened, a bond forming between two people who had seen too much of the darkness.

---

Elias' Second Encounter with Marco Silvester

The alley behind the casino was dimly lit, the scent of rain still fresh in the air. Elias stepped out for some air, but as soon as he turned the corner, Marco Silvester was waiting.

"You again," Elias muttered, his hand instinctively moving toward his knife.

Marco smirked. "Relax, I'm not here to kill you."

"That remains to be seen," Elias said coldly.

Marco stepped closer, his voice low. "I offered to help you before. You didn't listen."

"Because I don't trust you."

Marco chuckled. "And yet, you trust Dominic Graves?"

Elias tensed. "I don't trust anyone."

"Good," Marco said. "Then you won't mind hearing what I have to say."

Elias folded his arms, waiting.

"I'm not with the cops," Marco said. "And I'm not with any syndicate. I work alone."

Elias studied him carefully. "That's convenient."

Marco sighed. "Look, believe it or not, I know exactly what you're going through. Graves owns you. The Vescari Syndicate is out for blood. And you're caught in the middle."

Elias exhaled sharply. "And what do you want?"

Marco's expression turned serious. "I want to offer you a way out."

Elias narrowed his eyes. "There is no way out."

"That's where you're wrong," Marco said, stepping forward. "Think about it, Elias. Do you really think Graves will ever let you go? Do you think he won't put a bullet in your head the moment you stop being useful?"

Elias remained silent.

"You can keep pretending you have a future under Graves," Marco said, "or you can listen to me before it's too late."

Elias didn't respond. He turned and walked back toward the casino, leaving Marco standing in the shadows.

---

Sheriff Thomas Grayson Cleans the Streets

Sheriff Thomas Grayson was not a man of half-measures. In his first week on the job, he had already shut down four illegal gambling dens, arrested two corrupt officers, and raided three drug hideouts connected to smaller gangs.

The streets buzzed with talk of his methods.

"He's different," people whispered. "Not like the last sheriff."

Grayson was methodical, relentless. When a group of thieves attempted to rob a jewelry store in broad daylight, he arrived within minutes, taking them down personally.

He was making a statement—crime was no longer going to run unchecked in his city.

And the mafia was starting to notice.

---

The Vescari Syndicate's Revenge – The African Massacre

The night was humid as Adrian Vescari led his men toward the African gang's hideout—a rundown warehouse by the docks. Luca "The Hammer," Anton Sorelli, and a dozen heavily armed men flanked him.

Adrian's face was stone cold. His brother was dead, and tonight, there would be no survivors.

"Go to hell, pieces of shit!" Luca roared as he fired the first shot.

Gunfire erupted. The Vescari men stormed the warehouse with machine guns, shotguns, and grenades. The African gang scrambled for cover, but they were outgunned, outnumbered, and unprepared.

Bodies fell, blood splattered the walls.

Within ten minutes, it was over.

Only three men survived—the African gang leader (Kofi "The Butcher" Adeyemi), Samuel Okoye, and Nnamdi Kalu. They barely escaped through the back before disappearing into the city.

Adrian Vescari stood in the middle of the carnage, staring at the corpses littering the floor. His brother was avenged—but the traitor was still out there.

And he wouldn't rest until he found them.

---

The Great Meeting – Dominic Graves and Sheriff Thomas Grayson

The tension in Dominic Graves' office was thick.

Sheriff Thomas Grayson sat across from him, his hands resting on the desk, his blue eyes unwavering.

"I hear you're doing good work," Graves said smoothly, pouring two glasses of whiskey.

Grayson didn't touch his drink. "I'm doing my job."

Graves smirked. "And you're making a lot of enemies doing it."

Grayson remained silent.

Graves leaned forward, sliding a briefcase across the desk. "Consider this a friendly gift. A welcoming present for a man who's clearly going to be very important in this city."

Grayson didn't even look at the briefcase. "Are you trying to bribe me, Mr. Graves?"

Graves chuckled. "Bribe is such an ugly word. I prefer... an understanding between two men who run things."

Grayson leaned in, his voice cold. "You don't run this city anymore, Graves. I do."

A long silence filled the room.

Then, Grayson stood up and walked toward the door. Before leaving, he turned back.

"Enjoy your whiskey, Mr. Graves. It's the only thing you'll have control over soon."

And with that, he was gone.

For the first time in years, Dominic Graves felt something strange.

Annoyance.

Maybe even... concern.

(WAIT FOR "CROWNLESS KING" story ). sooooon