Ethan had moved away from the harbor and taken refuge in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. His phone trembled in his hand, its cold light casting a glow on his face. Elena's voice still echoed in his ears: "Work for me. Be loyal. Moretti and Carver will be yours." The image of Rachel's death flashed before his eyes; the blood spreading on the wet concrete, her last look searing into his mind like a knife. His anger was still hot, but now it had transformed into a purpose. Taking down Moretti and Carver was worth the cost of this vile alliance. His fingers hesitated as he dialed the number, each beep speeding up his heartbeat.
When the call connected, Elena's voice came through, calm but with an edge of sharpness this time. "Have you made your decision?" There was impatience hidden in the corners of her words, as if waiting for Ethan's response was a burden to her.
Ethan took a deep breath, his lungs filling with the cold night air. "I want Carver," he said, his voice firm but shaking with suppressed anger. "Start with him. Then we'll see what's next."
Elena was silent for a moment. Ethan could almost hear her breathing; controlled, calculated. Then came a light laugh, but it wasn't one of joy—it was the cold satisfaction of a predator. "Clever choice," she said. "Carver's at the harbor tonight. He's giving Donati his weekly report. He won't be alone, but I'll create an opening. Be ready, Ethan. This needs to be clean."
Ethan gritted his teeth, his jaw tightening and relaxing. "Why are you helping me?" The question hung in the air, his voice carrying both a challenge and suspicion. Elena's loyalty felt as slippery as a snake's skin; it could change direction at any moment.
Elena's response was swift, her tone sharp and clear like a knife. "I want my father's empire, Ethan. Carver and Moretti are his most loyal dogs. If they're gone, the throne will be mine. I'm using you, yes. But you're using me too. It's a fair trade, don't you think?" Her words were filled with cold logic, but the ambition behind them made Ethan's skin crawl.
The phone cut off, the familiar sharp silence leaving Ethan alone. He stood amid the rusty walls of the warehouse, the shadows around him reminding him of Rachel's ghost. He checked his gun—its 9mm magazine was full, the barrel cold. He fumbled for the knife tucked in his jacket pocket; the metal's rigidity gave him a sense of security. It was time to head back to the harbor. Elena's words were etched in his mind like a map, but whether that map led to victory or a trap, he couldn't be sure.
The city streets were filled with neon lights and exhaust fumes. Ethan quickened his pace as he neared the harbor; the fog still hung in the air, blurring his vision. At the end of the dock, Carver's silhouette appeared—tall, his shoulders arrogantly squared, the hem of his black coat fluttering in the wind. He was accompanied by two men; one leaning against the truck, the other scanning the area with a cigarette in his hand. The truck's rear door was open, revealing metallic boxes of weapons inside. Donati's dirty dealings were in motion once again.
Ethan hid in the shadows, crouching behind a shipping container. He held his breath, straining to hear Carver's voice. The man was speaking to the guard by the truck, his tone deep and authoritative. "Get the goods loaded onto the ship by morning. Donati doesn't want any delays." The guard nodded, crushing his cigarette underfoot. Ethan's hand reached for his gun, but just as he was about to draw it, the night was split by an explosion.
The truck erupted into flames. Orange and red lights shot into the sky, the explosion's roar ringing in Ethan's ears. Carver's men were thrown to the ground; one screamed as he rolled through the flames, the other fell motionless, his head covered in blood. Ethan drew his gun, adrenaline pumping through his veins. As Carver turned to look around, Elena stepped from the shadows. Her red hair gleamed in the firelight, and she held a silenced pistol. Her face was a mask of cold indifference.
Carver turned to her, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Elena? What are you—"
Before he could finish his sentence, Elena smoothly pulled the trigger. The soft pfft of the suppressor was drowned out by the explosion, but the bullet found its mark, entering Carver's forehead. Blood and bone exploded outward, and he dropped to his knees, staring blankly for a moment before toppling sideways. The sound of his body hitting the concrete was disturbingly loud in the sudden silence that followed the explosion.
Elena turned to Ethan, her face devoid of any emotion. "Phase one is done," she said, her voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of weight. "Moretti is next. But be careful, he's more cunning. Faster. This is just the beginning."
Ethan looked at Carver's body, the blood slowly spreading across the concrete. His anger had cooled, replaced by cold determination. But trusting Elena felt like dancing with a snake. "Why didn't you do it yourself?" he asked, his voice carrying repressed suspicion. "Why drag me into this?"
As Elena holstered her gun, she looked at him, her green eyes glowing in the firelight. "Because I wanted to test you," she said, a faint smile appearing on her lips. "I wanted to see how useful you could be. Carver was an easy target, Ethan. Moretti will be the real test. And now you owe me. I have a plan to take him down. Are you ready to listen?"
Ethan paused for a moment, the crackling of the flames and the distant sound of sirens filling his ears. The police could arrive any minute, the harbor had descended into chaos. He looked into Elena's eyes and saw the ambition and coldness there. "Yes," he finally said, his voice firm. "I'm listening."
Elena tilted her head slightly, as if pleased with his response. "Then let's go," she said, stepping toward the shadows. "It's not safe here anymore. My car's two blocks away. I'll explain the plan on the way."
Ethan followed her, his steps quick but silent. The fog swallowed the light of the flames, blurring everything like a dream. Carver was dead, but the victory felt hollow. Rachel's death still bled in his heart like an open wound, and Moretti was still out there, breathing easily in Donati's shadow. When they reached Elena's car, a black sedan waited in the darkness. Ethan opened the door and slid inside, the leather seats cold but oddly comforting.
Elena took the driver's seat, started the engine, and the car moved silently. "Moretti will be at Donati's underground casino," she said, her eyes fixed on the road. "For his weekly meeting. Security will be tight, but I'll create an opening from the inside. They think you're dead, that's our biggest advantage. But if we make a mistake, we're both done."
Ethan stared out the window, the city lights flowing past in a blur. "What if Donati figures out you're playing him?" he asked, his voice heavy. "Your father isn't stupid."
A smile tugged at Elena's lips, but it wasn't warm—it was calculated. "My father trusts me," she said. "For now. If we take down Moretti, he'll see my power. But you'll have to move fast, Ethan. Moretti's like a dog, he'll catch the scent and run."
The car sped through the city's dark streets, and Ethan gathered his thoughts. Carver's death had been one step, but the road ahead was long. Elena's plan was risky, but there was no other option. "Okay," he said finally, his voice resolute. "I'll do what I need to. But when this is over, we'll settle the score between us."
Elena glanced at him briefly, a spark flashing in her eyes for a moment. "We'll settle it," she said, her voice soft but threatening. "But first, let's finish Moretti. Get ready, Ethan. This is just the beginning."
As the car made its way toward the heart of the city, Ethan gripped his gun tightly in his pocket. Carver was dead, but the war was just beginning.