The scent of blood still clung to the humid Miami air. Marlo was dead. His office painted in crimson, his reign ended by Ivan's rage. But the city didn't stop. Not for grief. Not for war. And definitely not for two injured outlaws.
Felix lay on a makeshift hospital bed in the basement of an abandoned record store. His shoulder was wrapped tight, soaked through in deep red. Eric—Ivan—sat beside him, quiet for once, a cigarette burning low between his fingers. His knuckles were raw. His eyes, empty.
"You should sleep," Felix murmured.
Ivan didn't answer. He didn't blink. He just watched the smoke curl upward into nothing.
---
Far from that dingy basement, in a private lounge guarded by shadows, three men sat in a triangle of silence.
One sipped whiskey. One cleaned a gold-plated pistol. The third? He simply watched the flames dance in the fireplace.
"They killed Marlo," the man with the pistol said.
"I heard," the one with the whiskey replied. "Public. Loud. Sloppy."
"Effective," the third one muttered, eyes locked on the fire.
They were known by few. Spoken of in whispers. The heads of Miami's trinity—Silas of the Southside Imports, Rico of the Night Dock Circles, and Don Emilio, whose reach extended far beyond the state line.
"They're climbing too fast," Silas said.
"They're unpredictable," Rico added. "Especially the tall one. Ivan."
"And the short one's the reason they're still breathing," Emilio murmured. "Felix. The Fortress."
There was a pause. Heavy. Intentional.
"We let them clean Marlo up," Silas said. "Good. Saves us the trouble. But now?"
Emilio leaned forward, the firelight catching the scars on his face.
"Now we test them."
---
Back in the basement, Ivan finally spoke.
"We gotta move."
Felix shook his head. "You're half-dead. I'm worse. We need time."
Ivan stood up slowly. He winced, but didn't stop. "They'll come. For us. Or they'll try."
Felix looked up at him. "And we'll be ready."
---
Meanwhile, across town, envelopes were being sealed. Contracts were being signed. And killers were being sent.
The game wasn't over.
It had just changed.
And somewhere in the dark, a voice whispered:
"They called themselves cousins. Let's see if blood means survival."