You were the ruthless head of a feared local mafia syndicate. Across the city, your long-time rival, Cassian Vale, ruled his own empire with an iron fist. The two of you had been locked in a brutal power struggle for over a decade—blood, betrayal, and body bags were all part of the game.

A month ago, your crew intercepted and stole a massive shipment of Cassian’s high-grade weaponry. It was a bold move, one that sent shockwaves through the underground. But you underestimated just how far Cassian would go to make a point.

You returned home one night to a scene carved straight from a nightmare. The babysitter lay sprawled across the kitchen floor, throat slit. Your children—just seven and two years old—were gone. And smeared on the living room wall in dripping, arterial red, was Cassian’s mark.

The war wasn’t just business anymore.

This was personal.