Who's the rat?

Vescari Syndicate's Celebration and the Next Step

The air inside Vescari's nightclub was thick with the scent of expensive cigars, spilled whiskey, and the raw energy of men who had just won a war. Adrian Vescari sat at the center of the dimly lit VIP lounge, his sharp eyes scanning the room as his men roared in celebration. The African gang had been wiped out, their territory burned, and their influence shattered—except for their leader and two of his men who had managed to escape.

Adrian raised his glass, a dark smirk spreading across his lips. "We sent a message tonight, gentlemen. A message that no one—absolutely no one—trespasses on Vescari land and lives to tell the tale."

Luca "The Hammer" leaned back in his chair, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Ok, king. But there's still one problem. Someone sold us out. Someone told those bastards exactly when we'd be there."

The mood in the room shifted instantly. The celebration dulled. Faces darkened. Adrian's grip tightened around his glass until his knuckles turned white.

Anton Sorelli leaned forward. "The rat is still among us," he muttered. "We need to find out who it is—before they do more damage."

Adrian nodded slowly. "And when we do... we make an example of him so brutal that the next traitor will die from fear before even thinking of betraying us."

The Vescari men raised their glasses, some grinning at the thought of the bloodbath to come. The hunt for the rat had begun.

---

Sheriff Thomas Grayson's Fury

Meanwhile, Sheriff Thomas Grayson stormed into his office, slamming his fist onto his desk. The reports from the previous night were scattered in front of him—photos of bullet-ridden bodies, blood-stained streets, and the stench of unchecked crime.

His deputy, a nervous young officer named Frank Sullivan, shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, I—uh—I don't think we have the manpower to go against the Vescari Syndicate right now. They own half the city."

Grayson's eyes burned with fury. "Then we take back the other half," he growled.

"But sir—"

Grayson whipped around, grabbing Frank by the collar. "Listen to me, Sullivan. This city's been rotting under these bastards for years. I came here to change that. So, either you stand beside me, or you get the hell out of my way."

Frank swallowed hard and nodded hesitantly.

Grayson let him go and straightened his coat. "Good. Because I'm going to make sure these criminals learn that their days are numbered."

---

The Letter to Dominic Graves

That same night, inside his luxurious casino, Dominic Graves leaned back in his leather chair, swirling a glass of bourbon as he enjoyed the silence.

Then, a knock on the door.

A guard stepped in, placing a sealed envelope on the desk. "This was left outside the casino. No sender."

Dominic raised an eyebrow. He picked up the letter and slowly unfolded it.

Inside, the message was short but chilling:

"I don't forget my revenge, Graves."

Dominic's expression darkened. He reread the words, his mind racing.

"Who sent this?" he demanded.

The guard shook his head. "No idea, boss."

Dominic leaned back, tapping his fingers against the desk. He had many enemies. But this... this felt personal.

---

The Third Meeting Between Elias and Marco Silvester

At night, Elias sat on his couch, staring at the flickering light of his old lamp. His mind was a war zone—filled with doubts, memories, and the unshakable feeling that he was trapped in a nightmare he couldn't wake up from.

Then, a knock at the door.

Elias instinctively reached for his gun before slowly approaching. He opened the door just a crack.

Standing in the shadows was Marco Silvester.

"We need to talk," Marco said, stepping inside before Elias could refuse.

Elias shut the door behind him, arms crossed. "If you're here to offer me help again, don't bother."

Marco smirked. "I'm not just offering help this time, Elias. I'm offering the truth."

Elias narrowed his eyes. "What truth?"

Marco sat down, folding his hands together. "About your father."

Elias felt his stomach twist. "You knew my father?"

Marco nodded. "Your father, Peter, was once part of the Black Sun Syndicate—before Dominic Graves took over."

Elias took a step back, his mind reeling.

Marco's voice lowered. "Dominic knew him. Maybe even respected him. But Peter got caught up in things he shouldn't have, and it cost him everything."

Elias clenched his fists. "Why should I believe you?"

Marco leaned forward. "Because, Elias... I have proof. But you have to trust me."

Elias stared at the man, his heart pounding. Finally, he said, "Give me time to think."

Marco nodded. "I'll be waiting."

---

Elias and Karma Zobkov's Conversation

Later that night, Elias met Karma Zobkov inside the casino bar. She was dressed elegantly, her green eyes sharp and calculating.

She took a sip of her drink, watching Elias carefully. "You look like a man carrying too many secrets."

Elias exhaled. "Maybe I am."

Karma leaned in, lowering her voice. "Tell me something, Elias. Do you really believe Dominic Graves will let you go free after all this?"

Elias looked away. "He gave me his word."

Karma chuckled darkly. "Men like Graves don't give 'their word.' They give chains."

Elias studied her. "Why do you care?"

She shrugged. "Maybe I see something in you. Maybe I just don't want to see another man buried under his lies."

Elias hesitated before finally asking, "And if I do want out?"

Karma's expression grew serious. "Then trust no one, Elias. Not even me."

---

Sheriff Thomas Grayson's Bold Move

As dawn broke over the city, Sheriff Thomas Grayson walked into the Vescari Syndicate's nightclub, flanked by armed officers.

Adrian Vescari was at the bar, a smug grin forming as he saw the sheriff.

"Ah," Adrian said. "The new lawman finally shows his face. What brings you here, sheriff?"

Grayson stepped forward, his eyes cold and unflinching. "Adrian Vescari, you're under arrest."

The room fell silent.

Then—laughter.

Adrian chuckled, shaking his head. "You think you can just walk in here and take me? Cute."

Grayson didn't flinch. "You're done, Vescari."

Adrian's smile faded. He leaned in, voice dripping with menace. "You don't know who you're messing with, sheriff. You think arresting me is the end? No. It's just the beginning of your nightmare."

Grayson didn't blink. "We'll see about that."

With a nod, his officers cuffed Adrian.

As they led him out, Adrian's voice echoed through the nightclub.

"You'll regret this, sheriff. I promise you that."