"Pah!" With a sharp sound, Billy Valen, his face dark with anger, threw the glass of vodka in his hand to the floor. The glass shattered instantly, its fragments flying everywhere, but no one in the room flinched. They all lowered their heads, standing still, their eyes fixed on the ground.
"This guy is asking for his own death," Billy muttered, his eyes narrowing. "I offered him a finger, but he couldn't even hold on to that. Now, he dares to touch my people? He's got a death wish."
The previous day, after hearing about Jiang Hai's wealth, Billy had been intrigued. Normally, if it had been some large consortium or chaebols making money, people like him wouldn't have dared to challenge them. In fact, just six months ago, he wouldn't have dared to confront Jiang Hai. But recent developments had made him somewhat arrogant. In South City of Boston, he had come to see himself as the ruler of the underground.
Jiang Hai's refusal to show him respect was difficult for Billy to swallow. To him, Jiang Hai was just a local rich man from the countryside—what could his wealth possibly mean? Billy had about a thousand men and hundreds of guns. Not only was it easy for him to find trouble with Jiang Hai, he could also easily crush him if it came to that.
Billy had originally thought that offering three million dollars to Jiang Hai was a generous gesture, but Jiang Hai had dismissed it entirely. That refusal had awakened a dangerous anger in Billy. He was determined to claim Jiang Hai's manor, a rich, tempting prize that he had long desired.
Billy didn't care about Jiang Hai causing the death of his former boss or sending his brother to jail. In their line of work, death or imprisonment was par for the course. But Jiang Hai's refusal to give him access to that wealth, that manor, was something he couldn't overlook.
"You go and teach him a lesson," Billy said, his voice dripping with malice as he slumped into a chair.
Though he wanted to just shoot Jiang Hai and take the manor by force, Billy knew this wasn't practical. If he showed his face and killed a billionaire in his own home, it would be too big a scandal for him to escape from. The U.S. authorities would be quick to act. So, he sent one of his men instead.
The people around him were all hardened criminals, used to violence. Upon hearing Billy's orders, they immediately left the room. That night, phone calls went out, and soon, a handful of people converged in the Boston area. Billy's men were, for the most part, not the type to engage in a full-fledged battle. Many of them were just low-level thugs. They could handle menial tasks, like guarding a building, but when it came to fighting, they hesitated. Guns weren't their preferred method of resolving issues.
But this time, Billy had handpicked a few diehards—people who could be trusted to carry out his orders. These men would be dispatched to block the roads leading to Jiang Hai's manor, hoping to prevent the police from coming to his aid. Winthrop and Boston were connected by a narrow two-lane road. If that road was blocked, it would be difficult for the authorities to respond quickly.
As word spread, more and more of Billy's men gathered in Boston. The local police, who had been keeping an eye on these individuals, quickly sent word to Morris Smith, the police chief in Winthrop. Upon receiving the report, Morris immediately contacted Jiang Hai.
At that moment, Jiang Hai was discussing his options with Moses Adams at home. He had been considering the possibility of paying off Billy, just like he had done in Miami. But after speaking with Moses, he realized that this might not be a viable option.
Boston had long been a stronghold for the Gray Gang, and even after the U.S. government took control, things hadn't changed much. The Gray Gang was an entrenched part of the city's underworld, and Billy Valen had grown even more powerful with financial support from some individuals in China. In the United States, money could get you almost anything—even protection from the police. Though Billy's organization was still young, the local authorities dared not intervene without solid evidence.
Moses had warned Jiang Hai that things were different in Boston. Unlike Miami, where a monetary reward could clear up the situation, in Boston, the Gray Gang had too much influence.
As Jiang Hai was contemplating these issues, his phone rang. It was Morris Smith.
"It looks like you might not be going anywhere today," Jiang Hai muttered after hanging up the phone, shrugging at Moses Adams.
Moses, understanding the gravity of the situation, gave a wry smile. "Oh, this is going to be exciting, isn't it? But I trust you'll protect me, right?"
Jiang Hai gave a slight nod. "Get ready. The other side might be making a move soon." He grabbed a walkie-talkie and informed everyone in the manor to get ready.
Though the danger had been brought to their doorstep because of Jiang Hai, the people who worked for him were unperturbed. They knew it wasn't Jiang Hai's fault—he hadn't asked for any of this trouble. It was the wealth of the manor that had attracted attention. The staff, most of whom had been with Jiang Hai for less than a year, weren't scared. They had been prepared for this moment. Jiang Hai had made it clear: if they wanted to leave, they were free to go, but if they stayed, they would have to defend the manor.
None of them left.
Americans were fiercely protective of their property, and no one was going to abandon Jiang Hai now. They had already made their preparations. Bell, Harriman-Fiers, Burke-Daler, and Robbins-Garcia had gathered in front of the villa, transforming the cars parked outside into a barricade.
Bell, the sniper, took position on the roof, while Jiang Hai stood in front of the villa, beside the M134 machine gun he had borrowed, along with a box of 2,000 rounds of ammunition. He hoped it would make a strong impression on any attackers.
Meanwhile, families from the Turners, Charles, Ceci, Anderson, Gerard, and Murphy were all gathered at different villas on the property, preparing for a potential gunfight. Maren Rupert headed to the hangar, ready to use a plane to evacuate everyone if necessary. Helicopters were also on standby for combat.
As the tension rose, Afra and the others arrived at Jiang Hai's villa, ready to face whatever came next. By now, it was too late to leave, and everyone had taken their positions. Eight police cars rolled in, each carrying four officers—32 police officers in total. They formed the first line of defense at the gates of the manor. Meanwhile, Jiang Hai and his men took their positions behind the villa, forming a second line of protection. If both lines were breached, it would be over for Jiang Hai.
Everything was set. The group stood silently, smoking cigarettes, waiting for the inevitable. The calm before the storm.
Jiang Hai, too, lit up a cigarette. He wasn't a regular smoker, but the stress of the situation made it hard to resist. He hadn't smoked in years—he had quit during high school and never returned to the habit. But tonight, he needed something to occupy his mind.
As the minutes passed, the silence was oppressive. Xiaobai, Xiaohuang, and Banya lay nearby, sensing the tension in the air. It was a quiet, heavy atmosphere—a calm before the storm.