The rain returned to New York City, soft at first—almost gentle. But Luca knew better.
Storms in this city never stayed gentle.
Inside a dim underground parking structure in Manhattan, Luca stood beside a black SUV, reviewing a digital tablet. On the screen: properties recently purchased under shell corporations linked to Matteo Caruso.
Warehouses.
Nightclubs.
Shipping depots.
Strategic nodes.
Anthony Russo leaned against a concrete pillar nearby.
"He's not hiding," Anthony said quietly. "He's building."
"He wants visibility," Luca replied. "He wants us to know."
Anthony crossed his arms. "Why?"
"Because fear spreads faster when the enemy has a face."
Footsteps echoed in the distance.
Both men reached instinctively toward their concealed weapons.
But it was only a young Moretti associate.
"Shipment confirmed," the associate said. "Weapons arriving tonight at Pier 17."
Luca exchanged a glance with Anthony.
Pier 17.
Neutral territory.
Or at least, it used to be.
Across town, Matteo Caruso stood inside a high-rise office overlooking the skyline. The lights of New York City reflected against the glass behind him.
"You've confirmed their cooperation?" Matteo asked.
"Yes," one of his men replied. "Moretti and Russo have met multiple times."
Matteo smiled faintly.
"Good."
The lieutenant hesitated. "You expected that?"
Matteo turned slowly.
"When you threaten kings," he said calmly, "they form alliances."
He picked up a remote and pressed a button.
On a monitor, live footage of Pier 17 appeared.
"And when kings gather in one place," Matteo continued softly, "you remove them."
Near the waterfront, the air smelled of salt and diesel fuel. Cargo cranes creaked overhead. The Hudson River rolled quietly under the night sky.
Luca arrived first, scanning the perimeter.
Anthony followed minutes later.
"You sure about this?" Anthony asked.
"No," Luca answered honestly.
A cargo container door slid open across the dock.
Inside were crates—military-grade rifles, explosives, body armor.
Anthony let out a low whistle. "He's arming for occupation."
Luca stepped closer to inspect the shipment.
Too easy.
Too exposed.
His instincts screamed.
"Something's wrong," he muttered.
Suddenly—
The sky lit up.
A blinding explosion tore through the dock behind them.
The shockwave threw both men to the ground.
Fire erupted from a nearby storage building. Sirens began to wail in the distance.
Gunfire followed.
But not from the docks.
From rooftops.
Snipers.
Luca grabbed Anthony's coat and pulled him behind a stack of steel containers.
"This was a trap," Anthony shouted over the chaos.
"Yes."
Bullets ricocheted against metal.
Police sirens grew louder—closer than expected.
Too fast.
"They tipped off the cops," Anthony realized.
Luca's mind raced.
Explosion.
Illegal weapons.
Two rival heirs present.
If they were arrested together, both families would assume betrayal.
Matteo wouldn't need to fire another shot.
Their empires would implode from within.
"Split up!" Luca ordered. "Now!"
Anthony hesitated.
"Go!" Luca snapped.
Anthony sprinted toward the far end of the dock, weaving through smoke and debris.
Luca moved in the opposite direction.
A sniper round struck the ground inches from his foot.
He rolled behind cover, firing two precise shots toward the rooftop.
The sniper vanished.
Police lights flooded the pier.
"Drop your weapon!" a voice shouted.
Luca slipped through a narrow gap between containers just as officers stormed the dock.
Behind him, flames devoured the shipment.
Evidence.
Leverage.
All burning.
Minutes later, Detective Isabella Reyes stepped onto the scene.
Her expression was unreadable.
"Two explosions," an officer reported. "Illegal weapons cache. Suspected gang involvement."
"Suspected?" Isabella repeated quietly.
She looked at the damage.
Too theatrical.
Too deliberate.
Matteo Caruso wasn't just attacking infrastructure.
He was attacking perception.
Public fear.
Political pressure.
If the city believed the Morettis and Russos were escalating violence, federal intervention would follow.
And once law enforcement cracked down, Caruso would quietly fill the vacuum.
Isabella's phone buzzed.
A confidential informant message.
Caruso meeting tomorrow. Location secured.
Her pulse steadied.
Finally.
Later that night, Luca stood alone on a rooftop overlooking the burning remnants of Pier 17.
Anthony joined him moments later, bruised but alive.
"They almost got us," Anthony said.
"They wanted us alive," Luca corrected.
Anthony frowned.
Luca looked toward the city skyline of New York City, glowing in the darkness.
"If we died tonight, our families would go to war. But if we're arrested together…"
Anthony's expression hardened.
"They'll think we betrayed them."
"Exactly."
Anthony exhaled slowly.
"So what's next?"
Luca turned to face him.
"We stop reacting."
Anthony raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"We hunt Matteo on our terms."
The wind whipped across the rooftop.
Far below, sirens echoed through the streets.
For the first time since this began, Luca felt clarity instead of chaos.
Matteo Caruso believed he was orchestrating the board.
But every strategist makes one mistake.
They assume their opponents are predictable.
Luca Moretti was done being predictable.
The hunter was about to become the hunted.