The vault door groaned open like a beast waking from centuries of slumber. Inside, the air was thick with dust and time, each breath carried the weight of history. Rows of metal shelves lined the walls, stacked with files, ledgers, and encrypted drives wrapped in protective casing. A long table ran down the center of the room, its surface scarred by years of use. And at the far end, beneath a flickering overhead light, stood a single chair facing a massive map of New York City.
Luca stepped inside first, his boots echoing against the cold concrete floor. The woman who loved Anton, Sarah, followed close behind, her expression unreadable. Enzo lingered at the threshold, scanning the shadows like a man who had seen too many rooms like this end in bloodshed.
"This place…" Luca murmured, running his fingers along the edge of the table. "It's untouched."
She nodded. "Your grandfather sealed it the night he disappeared. He told me if anything ever happened to him, this would be where I'd find everything."
Luca turned to her. "You never came back here?"
She shook her head. "Too dangerous. Until now."
He moved toward the map, tracing the red lines drawn across the city. They connected boroughs, neighborhoods, and key locations, warehouses, safe houses, police precincts, even underground tunnels that hadn't been used since Prohibition.
Enzo stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "This isn't just strategy. This is a blueprint."
Luca nodded slowly. "For war. Fascinating I must say, The old man was really something."
Sarah reached into the drawer beside the chair and pulled out a leather-bound notebook. She flipped through its pages, revealing detailed notes written in Anton's unmistakable handwriting.
"He was planning something," she said quietly. "Before he disappeared."
Luca took the book from her hands and scanned the entries. Names were circled. Dates were underlined. And in the margins, scrawled in hurried ink:
Rocco cannot be fought on his terms. He must be undone.
Luca exhaled sharply. "Old man he knew Rocco would come for him."
Enzo crossed his arms. "Then why didn't he strike first?"
Luca looked up. "Best guess, he wasn't ready... Not yet."
Sarah touched his shoulder gently. "And now you are."
Luca turned back to the table, pulling open another drawer. Inside was a small, black device, a communicator unlike anything modern technology could replicate. It looked old, but still functional. He pressed a button on the side.
Static crackled.
Then...
A voice.
Faint, but familiar.
"If you're hearing this, then it means I'm gone. And you've found my last stand."
Luca froze.
Anton's voice.
The recording continued, steady and calm.
"Rocco believes power is taken. But power is built. And what he doesn't know is that I built something he can never take back."
Luca's pulse pounded in his ears.
"There are people still loyal to the Varga name. Men and women scattered across the city. Some think they're forgotten. Some don't even know they work for me. But they're there. Waiting."
Luca swallowed hard.
"What I left behind isn't just a war plan. It's a legacy. One only you can finish. By now you might have found out the truth... that I'm not your real grandfather by blood. But you are my grandson... no matter what. Always and Forever."
The message ended with a final click.
Silence settled over them like snowfall.
Enzo finally spoke. "That means we have allies."
Luca nodded. "We just need to find them."
Sarah stepped closer. "And we need to move fast. Rocco is after that briefcase, by now he's still hunting us... I know it."
Luca closed the notebook and looked around the room one last time. Every file, every map, every weapon, it all pointed to one thing.
This wasn't just about revenge anymore.
This was about reclaiming what was stolen.
He turned to face them both.
"We start with the names in this book," he said. "One by one. We bring them back."
Enzo smirked. "And if they don't want to fight?"
Luca met his gaze without hesitation. "Then they're not family."
Outside, the storm raged on.
Inside, the gears of war began to turn.
And somewhere deep in the heart of the city, Rocco Serra was about to learn a very dangerous truth.
The Vargas weren't dead.
They were coming home.