May 8, 2021. 05:03. Rome.
"HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!"
Remi throws both hands into the air before letting them fall against his sides with an exhausted slap.
"I mean, seriously! We had the mafia shooting at each other, then Neo-Tanwir shows up out of nowhere, then Big M literally drops out of the fucking sky like some Arasaka boogeyman—"
I rub a hand over my face.
"Remi, dude..." I let out a tired sigh. "Just... shut up for, like, five seconds."
"...Right," Remi says, slumping into a nearby chair. "My bad, yo."
The room falls quiet.
Literally two minutes ago, we finally arrived at the safehouse Dante had chosen, which couldn't have been more different from the Camorra estate we'd fled barely a few hours earlier. It sits alone on the outskirts of Rome, separated from the nearest neighbouring property by enough open land that nobody would think twice about lights turning on before sunrise.
Judging by the hastily arranged furniture and the unopened crates stacked against one wall, it had been thrown together through a series of emergency phone calls while we were still escaping the gala.
It wasn't exactly home, but it was secure enough that I could finally feel the adrenaline wearing off.
Every ache I'd ignored over the past few hours suddenly makes itself known.
My shoulders feel like concrete, my ears are still ringing from the constant gunfire, and dried blood—some mine, most not—has stiffened against my sleeves.
Across the room, Dante stands with his back to us, phone pressed against his ear.
"I understand. Any survivors?" His voice remains level despite everything. "...I see."
Nobody interrupts him.
Even Remi keeps his mouth shut.
Dante listens for another several seconds before speaking into his phone again.
"Michelangelo? Of course he did."
My curiosity gets the better of me.
"What happened?" I ask.
Dante doesn't answer immediately. He waits until the voice on the other end falls silent before lowering the phone.
"Michelangelo secured several Neo-Tanwir operatives alive."
"Alive?" Tetra frowns.
"He wanted answers." Dante's expression never changes. "Having dealt with Neo-Tanwir before, he removed every means of suicide he could find. Cyanide capsules. Hidden blades. Anything they could use to kill themselves."
Nobody says anything after that.
"He also..." Dante pauses for the briefest moment. "...made certain they wouldn't be attempting an escape."
Remi blinks. "Wait… what does that mean?"
"It means," Dante replies evenly, "they'll still be where he left them."
The room grows noticeably quieter.
Tetra slowly exhales through his nose. "We're probably lucky we didn't actually see the aftermath."
Shock leans back against the wall, arms folded. "It's... probably gross."
Mister says nothing, simply folding his arms, seemingly unsurprised.
Remi scratches the back of his neck. "So... then what happened after?"
"The prisoners were secured." Dante glances back down at the phone. "Michelangelo stayed behind."
"And Linh?" I ask.
A slight shake of his head.
"No report. I have no idea where she went."
With that, the call finally ends as Dante slips his phone back into his pocket.
For several long seconds, nobody says anything.
Everyone watches Dante, waiting for someone to tell them what comes next.
Only Wissen appears untouched by the uncertainty, hands folded behind his back as he quietly surveys the room without saying another word.
I lean against the wall and close my eyes for a second.
Every part of me wants to collapse onto the nearest couch and disappear for a day.
Instead, I reach for an unopened bottle of water sitting on the counter beside a sink, twist the cap off, and dump half of it over my face before grabbing a nearby towel to dry myself.
"Ugh..."
I drag the towel across my face with a groan.
Tetra glances over, looking mildly concerned for a moment before realizing I probably needed it more than anything.
Across the room, Dante finally moves.
He lowers himself into a nearby chair and stares at the floor in complete silence.
Thirty seconds pass before he finally speaks.
"The Don is dead." His voice is quiet, caught somewhere between disbelief, anger, and grief. "The head of the Camorra... is gone."
"Then step up." Shock's voice cuts through the silence. "It's what you've been working toward this whole time, hasn't it?"
She takes a slow, shaky breath, trying to steady herself.
"They..." She catches herself almost immediately. "...We need a leader now more than ever."
Wissen quietly takes a seat nearby before giving a slow nod.
"I agree. Political ramifications and the damage involving the Cosa Nostra aside... your family needs your leadership."
His attention settles on Dante, his expression turning thoughtful.
"I do find one thing interesting, though. They wanted the railgun... and they chose the perfect timing. Everything else seemed like the perfect distraction."
His eyes shift toward Tetra.
"Tetra... your gut feeling was right."
"Fuckkkkk..." I let out a long groan as another headache begins settling in.
Dante remains silent for a long moment before finally speaking again.
"...I still failed." His jaw tightens.
Wissen doesn't answer immediately.
He simply looks at Dante.
"No."
"Don't." Dante glances over, irritation beginning to creep into his expression. "Don't tell me I did my best."
"I'm not." Wissen slowly shakes his head. "I'm telling you there was no better plan given the context."
Everyone looks toward him.
"You accounted for every variable available to you. We spent the last week preparing. Rafael reinforced security. Shock managed the security network. Mister built contacts despite the language barrier. Artemis and Tetra uncovered the conspiracy and the possible attempt on your life. We even identified the incoming Cosa Nostra and minimized the damage."
He folds his hands once more.
"None of that was wasted. Given the limited information available regarding the Neo-Tanwir and the sudden corporate movements, this was the best outcome."
Dante still doesn't look convinced.
"'Best outcome'? Wissen... the Don is still dead, the railgun is stolen, and now the corporations are involved."
"Yes." Wissen doesn't soften the answer. "Because no plan survives contact with an enemy you don't yet understand." He pauses, meeting Dante's gaze. "We've reached the limits of preparation. Now we have to stop planning for the battle we wanted. That's over now."
He doesn't break eye contact.
"Fight the one we've actually been given."
Nobody interrupts him.
"Remember, the railgun was never the true objective. It was modified to fire a single shot. After that, it was little more than a symbol to prove your worth as an heir."
"The Neo-Tanwir took it," Dante replies. "Unfortunately, the symbol still mattered."
"It did," Wissen agrees. "Losing it does damage your image."
"And it happened before the coronation was even complete." Dante exhales sharply. "To everyone watching... I couldn't even protect the ceremony."
Remi opens his mouth, ready to say something.
I shoot him a look.
He immediately thinks better of it.
Wissen lets the moment linger before speaking again.
"I disagree. The ceremony may have been interrupted, but the decision wasn't. Think back to earlier. The underbosses challenged and questioned you—they even debated with you—I won't deny the annoyance of that. But when the Don made his decision... no one directly opposed his will, Dante. You had already won, long before arriving in Vancouver. The ceremony was never what legitimized you."
He waits for a moment before continuing.
"The guests, family, underbosses, even those plotting against you knew the decision had already been made."
Dante slowly raises his eyes, quietly processing Wissen's words.
"Will there still be rivals? Certainly. We still have a traitor within the Camorra. The Cosa Nostra remains a threat. And the Neo-Tanwir have introduced an entirely new variable," Wissen continues. "But none of that changes one fact: as far as the Camorra is concerned, you were the chosen successor. The railgun was simply a means of proving your worth to the rest of the family, even though the previous leadership had already deemed you worthy. And after tonight... you are simply the man who inherited that same family, albeit in the midst of a crisis."
Silence settles over the room.
Then Wissen asks the only question left.
"So… what do you want to do?"
Dante doesn't answer immediately.
He sits there for several more seconds, staring at the floor.
Everyone falls silent. The room grows so quiet I can hear the old refrigerator humming from the kitchen.
Remi eventually throws both hands into the air.
"So..." He looks around the room. "What's the plan now? We go kill some motherfuckers or what?"
I wince. "Remi..."
The disappointment in my voice is enough to make him stop.
"What?" He raises both hands defensively. "I'm deadass serious. I don't know what the hell we're doing anymore."
Nobody answers him.
Dante finally lets out a slow breath. "...You're right."
Remi blinks. "...Wait, for real?"
Dante slowly shakes his head. "Not you, Remi."
He looks toward Wissen instead.
"You're right." For the first time that night, the frustration in Dante's expression begins to settle as he rises from his chair. "Call every surviving underboss."
Several members of the party exchange confused looks.
"We'll rebuild first."
He lets the words hang in the air.
"The man I used to be..." His eyes lower briefly. "...would've answered tonight with vengeance." Dante slowly clenches a fist before relaxing it again. "And maybe that's exactly what some of them expected. A young, vengeful man with too much power who'd drag the Camorra into an endless cycle of bloodshed. I can't even blame them for thinking that."
He lets out a quiet breath.
"So I'll prove them wrong."
Silence settles over the room once again.
After everything we'd been through... that wasn't the answer I expected.
Dante turns toward Mister, his expression hardening.
"As for Giovanni... I'm convinced he orchestrated the internal betrayal. There's enough evidence pointing to him, from you and my other sources. I plan to contact him as well."
I cross my arms. "Then why not just kill him?"
Before Dante can answer, Tetra speaks quietly.
"Because then we'd become exactly what they expect." He folds his arms. "If Dante wants to lead differently, then it has to start somewhere. And if there's even a chance Giovanni isn't the whole story... I think he deserves the chance to answer for himself."
"Uh... Tetra, sweetheart, no." Shock answers almost immediately. Despite the exhaustion in her voice, her tone stays firm. "He nearly got Dante killed trying to assassinate him. We can't risk that."
"Yeah." Remi nods. "Bro crossed the line. You don't get a second chance after pulling something like that."
Mister remains silent for a moment before he speaks.
"I disagree."
Everyone turns toward him, each of us wondering what he has to say.
"Ghost isn't entitled to mercy, but executing him immediately creates a martyr. The family already has questions, and if Ghost dies overnight, people will invent their own answers regardless of what actually happened."
Then he gestures toward Dante.
"But if he's given the opportunity to surrender and refuses... the responsibility becomes his. Politically, that's far stronger than simply making him disappear."
"...Thank you." Dante nods slowly, looking directly at Mister. "That's exactly what I needed to hear."
Shock raises an eyebrow. "Seriously?" She gestures toward Mister. "You're putting him in charge of that? He doesn't even speak Italian."
"Then perhaps it's time he starts learning. Until then, I'll translate."
Wissen chuckles to himself.
"Careful." He looks between Dante and Mister. "Rely on him too much and you'll accidentally grow yourself another consigliere."
"I don't think anyone could replace you." Dante lets out the faintest laugh. "Nor would I want them to."
Wissen simply waves the compliment away. "Oh... we'll see about that."
It's faint, but I notice Wissen watching Mister instead of Dante. A faint smile—not one of amusement, but of quiet, almost proud approval—slowly forms across his face.
Dante catches it, giving the old man a small nod.
"You can take it easy. You've carried enough of this operation already."
Wissen leans back in his chair, the smile lingering.
"Gladly." His eyes meet Dante's. "I think you've just taken your first step, Godfather Dante."
…
May 8, 2021. 07:24. Rome.
The next two hours pass in a blur as the sun fully rises over Rome and I'm somehow still running on caffeine, energy drinks, and whatever emergency chemicals had been pumped into my system earlier.
Nobody sleeps. Not even Remi manages to sneak in a nap with everything that's happening.
Our safehouse quickly stops feeling like a place to hide and starts feeling like a command center.
Phones never stop ringing. Maps are spread across tables. Names, addresses, businesses, and safehouses are crossed out one after another as Dante, Mister, Shock, and even Rafael work through every location tied to the Camorra.
Every former meeting place is treated as compromised.
Temporary accommodations are arranged through whatever loyal contacts remain while trusted soldiers begin relocating throughout Rome before anyone else can find them first.
At the same time, Dante sends out an emergency summons to every surviving underboss.
Some answer immediately. Others never do, for whatever reason that may be.
By sunrise, the surviving leadership of the Camorra has already been assembled.
Beneath an old automotive repair garage on the outskirts of Rome, the meeting takes place. From the outside, the building looks as though it was abandoned years ago, its faded sign barely clinging to the brick wall while rusted shutters remain permanently closed to passing traffic. Only those who know where to look would ever notice the reinforced steel door hidden behind the garage or the staircase descending beneath the building.
Compared to the grand hall we'd stood in only a few hours earlier, the room is considerably smaller.
There are no marble floors or chandeliers, no expensive suits gathered around crystal tables.
Instead, I find exhausted men and women sitting around folding tables inside a reinforced concrete room that feels more like a wartime bunker than the headquarters of one of Italy's most powerful crime families.
Rafael stands beside Dante despite the fresh bandages wrapped around his shoulder.
Holy shit. The guy nearly fucking died a few hours ago.
Apparently, that still wasn't enough to convince him to sit down.
Mister quietly stands a short distance behind Dante.
Every so often he leans forward, whispers something into Dante's ear, then steps back without another word.
Wissen, meanwhile, says absolutely nothing and simply watches.
The underbosses take turns questioning Dante.
"How do we know another attack isn't coming?"
"We don't," Dante answers without hesitation. "That's why we're assuming one is."
Another underboss immediately follows.
"Then why aren't we retaliating?"
"Because I won't waste lives chasing an enemy we don't yet understand. We'll retaliate when we know who we're shooting."
A few quiet nods ripple across the room before an older man asks the question everyone had been avoiding.
"And why should we trust your judgment after the Don died?"
Nobody moves, and the room falls completely silent.
Dante meets the man's eyes without looking away. "You shouldn't."
Several people exchange surprised looks.
"I failed to bring him home, and I won't deny that."
"But I'm still here." His voice remains calm. "I accept responsibility for what happened."
He pauses before looking around the room.
"And from this point forward... judge me by what I do next."
Nobody applauds or cheers, and not a single person outwardly declares their loyalty to Dante.
But… nobody walks out on him either.
Occasionally, I catch Dante glancing down at his phone.
Even after the meeting has ended, leaving only us, the edgerunner crew, and a handful of Dante's most trusted men, notifications continue arriving one after another.
Some are reports from surviving lieutenants. Others simply confirm that another underboss had made it out alive.
Far too many never respond at all.
Nobody says much as we wait.
But there's clearly one person Dante is hoping to hear from.
Eventually, his phone vibrates once more.
He looks down.
Unknown Number.
The room immediately quiets.
Curious, I take a small step closer, but Dante simply raises a hand without looking back, making it clear that this conversation is his alone.
He answers the call.
"Pronto?"
Silence.
Then his expression changes.
"Giovanni... speravo che mi chiamassi."
A voice on the other end speaks for several seconds.
"No."
Another pause.
"Solo per telefono?" He frowns. "Perché?"
The conversation continues for nearly a minute.
Dante says very little, asking only brief questions while Ghost does almost all of the talking.
"Credevi che avrei indebolito la Camorra..."
A longer silence follows.
"Così hai deciso di fermarmi." His expression hardens. "Hai organizzato il mio assassinio..."
Another pause.
"Ma la morte di Alessandro non faceva parte del tuo piano?"
No one in the room says a word.
Dante's grip on the phone tightens.
"Il blackout..."
He listens.
"E dopo... tutto è sfuggito al tuo controllo quando sono entrate in gioco le altre fazioni." His eyes narrow. "Allora chi è stato?"
Several long seconds pass.
Whatever Giovanni says leaves Dante staring at the floor.
Finally, he lets out a slow breath.
"Capisco."
One last pause.
"Va bene."
The line goes dead.
Dante slowly lowers the phone before looking back at the rest of us, disappointment lingering in his eyes.
"He believed my leadership would've weakened the Camorra," he says quietly. "He admitted to orchestrating the assassination attempt against me because he thought removing me would protect the family."
He pauses.
"But... he denied killing the Don."
Silence settles over the room, each of us absorbing the revelation in our own way.
Remi straightens in his chair.
Shock's brow furrows.
Mister tilts his head.
Wissen remains quietly watching from the corner, studying every reaction in the room.
Tetra and I exchange a quick glance. A dozen questions immediately come to mind, but before either of us can ask a single one, Dante continues.
"He claims Alessandro's death was never part of his plan. Once the blackout happened, he says the operation stopped being his, and everything spiraled beyond his control when the Neo-Tanwir and the other factions entered the gala."
Silence settles over the room.
Everyone looks toward him before exchanging uncertain glances with one another, each of us quietly trying to figure out whether Ghost had just confessed... or simply shifted the blame onto someone else.
Dante lets out a slow breath.
"Or..." He looks down for a moment. "...at least that's what he wants me to believe."
He slips his phone back into his pocket.
"Before hanging up, he said that if I still want to talk... I can call him again once Rome has calmed down."
Nobody has an immediate response.
I glance around the room, but all I find are the same uncertain expressions staring back at me.
So… what now?