The quiet stillness of the ranch was interrupted by the soft crunch of gravel as the pizza delivery car rolled up the long driveway. A young delivery man, carrying a pizza box, casually approached the grand door of the mansion. He knocked twice, the sound echoing in the serene landscape.
A few moments later, the door creaked open, revealing a young woman in her early twenties. She smiled politely and invited him inside. As she led him down the hallway toward the living room, the former police captain, her father, sat comfortably on a plush leather couch, engrossed in the news on TV.
"Is the pizza guy here?" the captain called out without turning his head, eyes still fixed on the screen.
"Yeah, he's here," his daughter responded, midway through the sentence when she heard a slight shuffle behind her.
Before she could react, the delivery man, standing just behind her, swiftly opened the pizza box. But instead of pulling out a pizza, his hand emerged holding a cold black pistol. Without a word, he raised it and fired a single shot into the back of her head.
Her body crumpled to the floor in an instant, the muffled thud of her collapse the only sound filling the room. The former captain jolted from his seat, his eyes wide with shock, heart racing in disbelief. His hands shook uncontrollably as he saw his daughter lying motionless, blood beginning to pool around her.
"No—no!" The captain screamed, his voice breaking as he stumbled toward her. But his feet froze when the delivery man stepped forward, lifting his head to reveal his true identity.
Tyrone.
A cold grin spread across Tyrone's face as he stared down the once powerful man. "You remember me, don't you?" Tyrone's voice was laced with venom as he approached, every step deliberate.
The captain's mind raced, memories flooding back to all the people he had wronged, all the schemes he had pulled. But before he could utter a word, Tyrone lunged forward and smashed the butt of his gun into the captain's skull. The captain crumpled to the floor, unconscious, as Tyrone stood over both father and daughter.
Tyrone looked down at the scene, breathing heavily, then knelt beside the captain's daughter. Gently, almost eerily, he brushed her hair back as if showing some twisted form of remorse, then stood up and dialed a number on his phone.
"It's done," he said quietly.
As Tyrone finished his call, headlights pierced through the darkness, illuminating the long driveway leading up to the ranch. A black van pulled to a stop in front of the house, and four men dressed in dark clothing stepped out, moving with practiced efficiency. They approached the entrance with a grim determination, their movements swift and purposeful.
Two of the men immediately set to work, wrapping the young woman's lifeless body in a plastic sheet with an unsettling precision. They moved silently, their faces expressionless, as if this was routine. The other two men, without a word, hoisted the unconscious former police captain from the floor, carrying him toward the van.
Tyrone, standing over the scene, was a picture of calm. He slipped off the pizza delivery uniform, tossing it casually onto the floor where it landed in a heap. Underneath, he was already dressed in his usual attire—dark jeans, a fitted black jacket, and a silver chain glinting against his chest. He glanced at the scene before him with a detached satisfaction.
As he adjusted his jacket, a separate SUV rolled up beside the van. The driver, a trusted associate, nodded to Tyrone, who nodded back before stepping outside into the cool night air. The men worked quickly—within minutes, the house was cleared. The young woman's body was gone, and no trace of the gruesome scene remained.
The former captain, now bound and gagged, was tossed into the back of the van. He stirred slightly but remained unconscious, unaware of the nightmare awaiting him.
Tyrone walked to the sleek SUV, taking a deep breath as he looked around at the isolated ranch one last time. The past was catching up to everyone, and for the captain, it was time to pay his dues. Tyrone slid into the back seat, and the SUV's engine roared to life.
The van and SUV both pulled away from the ranch, their taillights fading into the distance as they headed toward an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. The drive was long and quiet, the tension in the air growing as the convoy neared its destination. Tyrone leaned back in his seat, staring out the window, already planning his next move.
When they arrived at the warehouse, the heavy metal doors creaked open to reveal a cold, empty space. The men exited the vehicles, dragging the unconscious captain into the center of the room while the others disposed of the evidence from the ranch. Tyrone stepped out of the SUV, the sound of his boots echoing off the concrete floor as he approached the captive.
The warehouse was silent, save for the distant hum of the city. Tyrone's gaze was icy as he watched the men bind the captain to a metal chair in the middle of the room. Slowly, the former captain's eyes fluttered open, confusion quickly turning to fear as he realized where he was—and who was standing before him.
Tyrone took his time, circling the captain, the air thick with suspense. The game was far from over, and the captain had no idea just how much he had to lose.
Tyrone stood in front of the bound captain, his cold eyes narrowing as the man regained consciousness. The former police captain's confusion quickly morphed into panic as he realized the situation. His wrists were tied tightly to the arms of the metal chair, and his ankles were similarly bound to the legs. The dim light overhead cast deep shadows around the empty warehouse, heightening the tension in the room.
Tyrone paced slowly around the chair, every step deliberate, his silver-patterned Glock glinting in his hand. The silence was thick, broken only by the captain's labored breaths.
"You know who I am, don't you?" Tyrone's voice was low and menacing, each word dripping with controlled fury.
The captain swallowed hard, trying to nod, but his fear was palpable. "I— I know," he stammered, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Tyrone... please, I don't want any trouble."
Tyrone's face twisted into a dark smirk. "You don't want trouble?" He stepped closer, crouching down so his face was inches from the captain's. "You framed me. You worked for Giovanni. And you took millions to ruin my life."
The captain's eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak, but before a word could escape, Tyrone backhanded him with the butt of his gun, sending a sharp crack across his jaw. The captain yelped in pain, blood dripping from his mouth as he recoiled from the blow.
"There's no point in lying. No point in begging," Tyrone said, his voice calm but venomous. "I want answers about Giovanni. Where he's hiding, who's protecting him, and how deep this setup against me goes."
The captain spat blood onto the cold floor, his breathing ragged. "I... I don't know anything about where Giovanni is now," he choked out, voice shaking. "He's gone underground. After the heat got too much, he vanished. That's all I know, I swear!"
Tyrone shook his head, unimpressed. Without warning, he grabbed the captain's hand, forcing it onto the armrest. "You think I believe that? After all the games you played? After all the people you've screwed over?" His voice dropped, icy and lethal. "I don't give second chances."
With brutal precision, Tyrone pulled a knife from his pocket and stabbed it through the captain's hand, pinning it to the chair. The captain screamed in agony, his body jerking as blood spilled onto the floor. Tyrone watched without a shred of empathy, the coldness in his eyes unrelenting.
"You're going to tell me everything," Tyrone growled, twisting the knife slowly. "Every. Last. Detail. Or the next one's going through your throat."
The captain gasped for breath, tears of pain and fear welling in his eyes. "Okay! Okay! Please! I'll talk, just... stop!" He whimpered, trying to hold back his cries as the pain throbbed through his entire body.
Tyrone leaned back slightly, giving him room to speak but keeping his hand firmly on the knife handle. "Start talking. Giovanni. Now."
The captain wheezed through his pain. "Giovanni has safehouses... a network, but most of it's been abandoned. He's holed up somewhere in the mountains outside of the city, deep enough to avoid the feds... and he's not alone. He's got protection, former military—mercenaries, the kind that won't think twice about killing. He knew you'd come for him after the setup, but he thinks he's untouchable."
Tyrone's face remained expressionless as he processed the information, his eyes boring into the captain's with quiet fury. "Who else is working with him?"
The captain winced, hesitating for a moment. Tyrone twisted the knife ever so slightly, and the man howled in pain. "Alright! Alright! Giovanni's in deep with Ricco's people... he's been feeding them info, setting up deals with corrupt cops, even some DEA guys. They were all in on taking you down."
Tyrone's jaw clenched at the mention of Ricco. He already suspected the link, but hearing it confirmed was enough to send a wave of anger pulsing through him. "And you? Why did you take the money?"
The captain's face twisted with regret, his body trembling. "I was desperate. Giovanni offered me the kind of money I couldn't refuse. I didn't think you'd make it out alive... I didn't think—"
Before he could finish, Tyrone pulled the knife out in one swift motion, leaving the captain gasping in shock and pain. But Tyrone wasn't done. He grabbed the man by his collar, pulling him face-to-face.
"You've crossed the wrong man," Tyrone hissed, his voice low and threatening. "And now, you're going to help me find Giovanni."
The captain's eyes were wide with terror. He nodded frantically, too broken to refuse. "I will... I'll do whatever you want, just please... don't kill me..."
Tyrone leaned in closer, his voice cold as ice. "That's the only reason you're still breathing."
With that, he shoved the captain back into the chair, his expression dark and unforgiving. This was just the beginning. Giovanni's network, Ricco's betrayal—it was all falling into place. But one thing was clear: Tyrone wouldn't stop until every last one of them was either dead or begging for mercy.
And mercy was something he didn't believe in.