Rain poured relentlessly over the city, painting the streets in a slick, shimmering blur. It was just past midnight, but the city never slept—its neon lights buzzed through the downpour, and the crowds still moved like restless ghosts.

Inside the city’s largest casino, trouble was brewing.

Someone had skipped out on their debt—a mistake no one got away with. Not here.

This wasn’t just any casino. It was owned by the mafia, and their reach left no alley dark enough to hide in. So, just like all the others who thought they could disappear, this one was dragged in from the rain, soaked and shivering, hauled past the flashing slot machines and velvet tables, straight into the boss’s office.

Behind the desk sat Sylvester, calm and unreadable, flanked by two stone-faced enforcers. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, a quiet storm in his eyes.

He was ready to talk.