Chapter 3

When Don Sebastian saw the truck of his men coming without the usual chants of victory and triumph, he knew that he had lost the battle.

Retrieving his perfectly rolled joint of marijuana from his suitcase, he lit it, smoking silently, staring at the trucks as they parked next to his huge mansion. He stared through the smoke, his eyes burning and watering, his hands trembling in anger and obvious upset.

He had heard from his men what had happened across the rural area of Michigan which was controlled by Don Carlo. He had heard of how his men had been stripped naked, and how the drugs he was supposed to push to California had been seized by Don Carlo. He had also heard about his bragging and his ranting.

When he heard it, he refused to believe it at first.

As far as he could remember, he and Don Carlo were very good friends. They respected each other, knew their boundaries, and occasionally sent gifts to each other. That was why he didn't even bother when his men told him they would have to cross his territory to get to California.

He had obliged, knowing that since Don Carlo was his friend, he was going to let his men go through without any fuss and obstacles.

But he was wrong.

Not only did Don Carlo trouble and disgrace his men, he had boasted about it. Don Sebastian was a man who was wildly respected and feared, and to hear his men talk about how he was being talked about in a bar was something that made him offended.

He had managed to keep cool for just two days before he decided to strike back. And that was how even though he had just limited explosives and a few men because he had sent some of his men to help his friend, Tristan who had problems with another warlord in New Mexico, he still went ahead to attack Don Carlo.

He had been annoyed and offended by the fact that a man he had referred to as his friend could do such a thing to him, that a man he trusted and was proud to call his friend had turned him into a laughing stock.

And while sending his men, he had instructed them to wipe out every one of Carlos', family members.

But what he was seeing was the reverse.

Not only had his men disappointed him, but he could see from their faces that he had lost a few men too.

Don Sebastian paced his sitting room, then unable to bear the anger that was coursing through his system and veins, he groaned, clearly annoyed and offended by the loss of his men and the unfamiliar taste of defeat.

He was a man who prided himself on having not been defeated by any crime boss.

That was until today. That was until Don Carlo had just rendered his men and their weapons useless, making them look like amateurs.

“Boss.”

It was Giovanni Rossi, the leader of his men and his deputy. He was a man that he could trust, a man that he had picked from the streets and turned into his deputy. He was a hard man, a man who understood how the underworld worked and how to operate it.

He was frowning, his gun by his side. On his arm was a gunshot wound, apparently the bullet had just grazed him.

He stared at him, unruffled, even though he had just been defeated. That was why he had made Giovanni his deputy. He was a man who understood the pressure and the stress that came with that position, and even at that moment, he didn't look like a man who had just fought a battle and had gotten injured.

“Giovanni. Talk to me, come on. Tell me what I'm seeing is false. Tell me you brought that bastard's head to me. Please tell me what I need to hear.”

“We failed you, Don. We failed you. But this is only the beginning.”

Don Sebastian walked away, walking stiffly until he was within arm's length of the bottle of brandy that was on the table. Without batting an eyelid, he lifted it and flung it at Giovanni, not thinking, gritting his teeth, his eyes blazing and his hands trembling.

Giovanni ducked at the last minute, and the bottle struck the wall next to him, shattering into a thousand pieces.

But even after that, he didn't see fear in his deputy's eyes. It was more like amazement and surprise, more like shock and dumbfounded. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't sacred. It made Don Sebastian wonder for a moment what he had turned the man before him into.

Probably a monster.

He walked back to the men who stood at attention, waiting for him, awaiting his command and his orders. He stared at them, scanning every face, appreciating and satisfied with the fear he saw in their eyes.

“This is what is going to happen, Giovanni. You're going to keep your eyes and ears open. You're going to do as I've taught you. We are going to strike back, no matter how slowly. You're going to put your ears to the ground and attack like a wolf.”

He stared at his deputy who stared back at him in the eyes, not flustered, unlike the men around him.

“Yes, boss.”

“We're going to attack his loved one, Gio. Just like he has attacked ours. We need a family member, probably his son or his daughter. Make findings. Gio, because war is only just beginning. War is starting.”

He stared at his deputy who nodded, his face a mask of steel and devoid of emotions.

“Go and do as I've said. But before that, give me a report of how the war had gone.”