The warehouse loomed like a hulking shadow under the dim glow of flickering streetlights. Inside, Charles stood at the center, his heart pounding like a war drum against his chest. The acrid stench of blood and gunpowder filled the air. Dead bodies were strewn across the cold concrete floor with men he had fought beside, men who had trusted him.
Charles let out a scream, the sound tearing through the silence. It was a guttural cry of rage and despair. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as he turned in circles, trying to put together what had just happened. His mind was in a storm of thoughts, each more chaotic than the last.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," he muttered under his breath, his voice shaking. "This wasn't how it was meant to go down."
He dropped to his knees, running a trembling hand through his blood-matted hair. The mission had been airtight or so he thought. But now, staring at the carnage around him, Charles knew the truth.
Dominic had betrayed him.
"Damn it, Dominic!" Charles roared, slamming his fist against the floor. "How could I have been so blind?"
The sound of a faint metallic creak pulled him out of his despair. He whipped around, gun drawn, only to find nothing but shadows. Paranoia clawed at him. He had to get out of there. The longer he stayed, the greater the chance that Dominic's men would return to finish the job.
As he stumbled toward the exit, his thoughts were a whirlwind of anger and self-recrimination. He wanted to pin it all on Dominic, but deep down, he blamed himself for not seeing the betrayal coming.
Miles away, at the Phoenix Mafia's grand estate, Frederico Vallenza, the infamous leader of the group, sat in his lavish study. The room was a stark contrast to the chaos Charles had just escaped a place of elegance and power. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and a grand chandelier cast a warm glow over the polished mahogany desk where Frederico worked.
He sipped a glass of red wine, oblivious to the storm brewing just beyond his reach.
One of his lieutenants, Marco, entered the room, bowing slightly. "Boss, everything seems quiet tonight."
Frederico smirked, leaning back in his chair, and spoke in a low calm tone his voice as soft as ever. "Quiet is dangerous, Marco. It means something or someone is plotting big."
As if on cue, a cold shiver ran down Frederico's spine. He froze, the glass of wine halfway to his lips. It was an old instinct, honed over decades in the game. He could sense its death. It was close, lingering like a specter in the shadows.
"Something's not right," Frederico said, setting the glass down.
Charles raced back to the Phoenix Mafia estate, his car skidding around corners as he pushed it to its limits. He couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that something terrible was about to happen.
When he arrived, the scene before him was worse than his nightmares. The estate was under siege. Gunfire echoed through the night, and the air was thick with smoke and screams.
"No!" Charles shouted, jumping out of the car.
He drew his weapon, taking down two of Dominic's men as he fought his way inside. The sheer power of Dominic's group was overwhelming, their numbers and firepower far greater than Charles had anticipated.
Inside the estate, Frederico was holding his ground, but barely. His men were falling one by one, and the enemy was closing in.
Dominic pushed his way through the chaos, his eyes locked on Frederico. The two men finally came face to face in the grand hall, the air between them crackling with tension.
"Dominic," Frederico said, his voice calm but laced with venom. "I should've killed you the moment I saw the snake in you."
Dominic smirked, raising his gun. "You were too blind, old man. Too busy holding on to your precious empire to see the cracks forming beneath you."
Frederico laughed bitterly, even as blood trickled from a wound on his side. "You think you've won? Taking me down doesn't make you a king. It makes you a target."
"I'm not afraid of targets," Dominic said, his voice cold. "But I am done waiting."
With that, he pulled the trigger, the gunshot echoing like a death knell. Frederico's body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Charles arrived just in time to see Frederico fall. "No!" he screamed, his voice breaking.
He fired at Dominic, but the man was already retreating with his group, their victory complete. The estate was in ruins, and Charles knew he was outnumbered and outgunned.
Breathing heavily, he dropped his weapon and sank to his knees beside Frederico's body. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. "I should've been here."
The sound of approaching sirens forced him to his feet. He couldn't stay any longer, not now. He had to retreat, regroup, and become stronger to annihilate Dominic in the future.
As he fled Rico City, Charles swore an oath to himself.
"I'll make this right," he said, his voice steady despite the tears streaming down his face. "Dominic will pay for this. I'll become stronger, smarter... a true leader. And when the time comes, I'll take back everything he's stolen one by one."
Far from Rico City, Dominic stood on the balcony of his new headquarters, looking out over the city he now ruled.
One of his men approached. "Sir, Charles escaped. Should we send a team after him?"
Dominic shook his head, a dark smile playing on his lips. "No need. Let him run. Let him hide. When he resurfaces, he'll realize that the world has moved on without him."
He turned, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light. "Besides, I want him to see what real power looks like before I crush him for good."
Elsewhere, in the dark forest, Charles was running with his tail between his legs, he was losing lots of blood and was on the brink of dying, but before he could get a clear view of the sea, something out of the ordinary happened and Charles was later swipe away.