Chapter 309 — Northern Mafia I

Damian pulled off the sunglasses and smiled, his crimson eyes sweeping across the room.

"Long time no see, old friend."

Every man stood up immediately.

Recognition rippled through the room. It was their boss, the Godfather of the Mafia and the person who’d become a Federation celebrity after that portal incident.

The monster who’d saved their lives.

Marcus and the other portal survivors wore complicated expressions. They owed Damian everything, but they’d also seen what he was capable of when pushed.

Brian’s stern expression cracked. He crossed the room in two strides and pulled Damian into a crushing hug, his massive frame dwarfing the teenager.

"Good to see you better, Damian."

His voice was rough with genuine relief.

"I talked with your father. He said you needed time to recover. Shouldn’t you be home resting?"

Damian shrugged as Brian released him.

"I’m a lot better now."

He walked over to the chair next to Brian’s and sat down, immediately putting both feet up on the table in a posture that radiated casual authority.

"Figured I should come see what my Mafia’s been up to in the north."

He pulled out a cigar, lit it, and took a long drag before his eyes swept across the assembled men.

Every person he looked at met his gaze without flinching.

Damian smiled, genuine satisfaction crossing his face.

"...This is what a Mafia should look like. You’ve trained your men well, Brian."

Brian allowed himself a small smile at the praise.

"So what’s got you all up at this late hour?"

Brian glanced at Marcus, who passed the reports to Damian.

Damian read silently. His expression didn’t change as he absorbed the information about the losses, the compromised police, the captured operative...

Then he tossed the papers back on the table.

His eyes found Marcus.

"What do you think we should do, Marcus?"

Marcus was quiet for a moment, clearly weighing his words.

"We could... get a lawyer. Or bribe an official in the city government to help us get Ming released through legal channels."

Damian’s eyes swept across the room, meeting every gaze without blinking.

"Is that what all of you think should be done?"

Nobody answered immediately.

Damian stood up slowly, smoke trailing from the cigar. He walked to the window, his back to the room, looking out at the dark Norrington streets below. The city sprawled out in the distance with lights flickering.

"You know what’s funny about dogs?"

His voice was conversational and almost friendly.

"You can beat a dog, starve it and chain it up in the cold... And it’ll still come back wagging its tail if you throw it some scraps."

He took a drag from the cigar, the smoke curling up toward the ceiling.

"That’s what you sound like right now, Marcus. Begging for scraps from people who’d chain you up if they could."

Marcus’s jaw tightened but he said nothing, his hands clenching at his sides.

Damian turned back to face them, his crimson eyes catching the dim light in a way that made them almost glow.

"You have Gia’s protection, the best resources money can buy and weapons, armor and potions that cost more than most people make in a lifetime."

He paused, letting the silence stretch until it became uncomfortable. Men shifted their weight and avoided his gaze as they looked at the floor.

"You’re all C-rank or higher, you wear masks when you operate and your identities are buried so deep that even the Federation can’t find you."

His voice dropped lower.

"So what the fuck are you afraid of?"

"The government," Marcus said quietly. "Boss, going after the police means declaring war on the system itself. The main Mafia branch has never–"

"I don’t give a shit what the Central Region does."

Damian’s voice cut clean through Marcus’s explanation like a blade through silk.

"Their focus is on acting like an alternative government and supporting people the Federation ignores. Playing nice and making sure everyone depends on them."

He walked closer to Marcus, his movements deliberate and unhurried. Each footstep echoed in the quiet room.

"That’s not what you’re doing here. You’re hunting the Shadow Council. And I’m here to watch them burn for going after people I care about."

He paused.

"...So tell me why you’re trying to fight a war by following the enemy’s rules."

Marcus opened his mouth, then closed it again, his throat worked but no sound came out.

"You want to dismantle an organization that’s been operating in shadows for decades?"

Damian’s voice was conversational now, almost friendly.

"Then get your hands dirty, kidnap everyone you suspect, break their bodies until they talk and threaten their families if you have to. Make them understand that crossing us has consequences they can’t hide from."

"But Boss..."

Marcus’s voice carried hesitation that made several other men glance at each other nervously.

"Threatening people with clean backgrounds, going after families who might be innocent... it doesn’t–"

"Doesn’t feel right?"

Damian was in front of Marcus in two steps, close enough that the older man had to look up slightly to meet his eyes.

"Marcus."

His voice went quiet, the kind of quiet that made the room feel smaller

"I told you once before to drop your morals if you wanted to be part of this."

He let the words sit there for a moment, heavy in the air between them.

"If you can’t do what needs to be done... then get the FUCK out of this room and don’t come back."

Marcus’s jaw clenched but he held Damian’s gaze, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His knuckles went white from the pressure.

One of the younger recruits opened his mouth, barely twenty years old with more courage than sense.

"Boss, I think what Marcus is trying to–"

Before he could finish, Damian moved.

CRACK

His hand shot out and grabbed the man by the throat before anyone could blink, slamming him against the wall hard enough to crack the concrete behind his head.

The recruit’s feet dangled off the ground as his hands clawed uselessly at Damian’s grip.

"!!!"

"Did I ask you to speak?"

Damian’s voice sounded like he was discussing the weather instead of choking someone and the contrast between his tone and his actions made it somehow worse.