….
[Unknown Location | Underworld]
The doors of the private office clicked open without a warning chime.
Inside, the room was shrouded in warm amber shadow, illuminated only by the city skyline through rain streaked floor to ceiling glass and the desk lamp across a desk.
Dario stood behind the desk, a glass of neat bourbon resting untouched beside an unlit cigar.
He was a man carved from old world discipline.
Iron-gray hair combed straight back, a tailored charcoal vest fitted over broad shoulders that carried decades of underground blood and business.
He didn't look up when the footsteps crossed the threshold.
"I gave orders not to be disturbed tonight, Dante." Dario said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that could quiet a room of twenty armed men.
Dante, his most trusted lieutenant, usually had an answer for everything.
Rarely one to show emotion, he now stood before Dario with a tablet clutched in both hands, barely concealing his urgency.
"Boss." Dante said, his voice steadying itself. "I think we found him."
Dario's hand stopped above his glass. For several seconds, the only sound in the penthouse was the rain tapping against the windows.
He slowly raised his eyes. "Be careful, Dante. I won't find this funny if you're wrong."
"I am aware of that Boss." Dante stepped forward–
"We picked up the first trace a month ago, but I held off bringing it to you until I could verify it. I've spent the last thirty days running surveillance, digging through backdoors, checking biometric records, and following paper trails across three shell companies."
He placed the tablet on Dario's desk and met his gaze. "I wanted to be absolutely certain before I came to you."
Dario studied him. He knew Dante well enough to understand that he wouldn't take a risk like this without good reason.
"And if you've made a mistake?"
"Then you can hold me responsible, Boss." Dante's jaw tightened. "I will put my life on it. I am certain this time."
Dario studied him in silence.
He knew Dante well enough to know the man didn't gamble on hunches.
"Show me." Dario leaned back in his chair and held out his hand for the tablet.
Dante placed it in his palm and started the video.
Dario watched in silence for several seconds before his expression hardened.
"What kind of stupid joke is this?"
They had spent years searching for the man, chasing dead ends across borders and digging through networks that had cost them fortunes to penetrate.
And now, after all that, they had found him in a movie.
Worse, he wasn't some stranger caught in the background of a public shoot.
He was sitting in front of the camera, apparently playing one of the leading roles.
Dante shook his head. "We couldn't find a single trace of him through the old networks or at any border crossing. He covered his tracks too well, Boss. If this footage hadn't surfaced, we would still be looking."
The video showed an unedited behind the scenes clip from LIE Studios' Train to Catch…
Crew members moved around a massive train set, resetting equipment between takes, while a towering man sat on an overturned equipment crate in the foreground, cooling off in a faded charcoal tank top with a towel draped over his shoulder.
Dante paused the footage and zoomed in on the man's right shoulder.
Dario went still.
Beneath the scar tissue, barely visible against the thick muscle, was a jagged tribal brand depicting an iron wolf entwined with three broken chain links.
"The brand." Dario murmured.
"That was the first thing that caught my attention." Dante said, swiping to another file. "But I wasn't going to bring you a tattoo and call it proof. Someone could copy it."
He brought up several frames from the film's fight scenes.
"First, his fighting style. I ran the footage through our behavioral analysis software. It's the same combat doctrine taught exclusively at the family estate."
Dario's gaze remained fixed on the screen. "Keep going."
"Second, his medical records. The practical stunt work required full physicals and blood panels for the production's insurance. I managed to obtain the underwriters' report." Dante opened a scanned document. "Old compound fracture of the left clavicle, plus two healed nine-millimeter entry wounds along the lower ribs."
He looked up at Dario. "Same injuries he sustained in Chicago ten years ago."
For the first time since the video began, Dario said nothing at all.
Dante swiped to a high-resolution surveillance photo taken outside a private residence in the Hollywood Hills.
"There's one more thing, Boss. He goes by Rock and doesn't have any surname, or verifiable history before he appeared in Los Angeles six years ago. Then he became Regal Seraphsail's personal head of security, and he's been with him ever since."
Dario glanced at the photograph. "You've found nothing about his life before that?"
"Nothing reliable. Whoever helped him disappear did a thorough job. Now he's surrounded by the sort of money and security that makes asking questions difficult."
Dante set the tablet on the desk, bringing up the earlier footage of Rock.
Dario studied the screen without speaking.
The broad, weathered face, the taped hands, the familiar stillness in his eyes.
Ten years of searching through morgues, ports, and graves, and the man had turned up in a film studio halfway across the world from everything he'd left behind.
At last, Dario leaned back. "What do you recommend?"
Dante took a moment before answering. "We could send someone to Los Angeles, but I'd rather wait for your decision before making contact. If he knows we're looking, we lose whatever advantage we have."
"Then we do nothing for now." Dario's voice remained quiet.
Dante blinked, caught off guard by the restraint. "But Boss... if the other families find out he's alive–"
"I said I will decide." Dario cut him off, his eyes shifting upward, sharp as a switchblade. "Until then, nobody touches him."
"Understood, Boss."
"Leave the tablet."
Dante placed it on the desk and left.
The door closed behind him, leaving Dario alone with the image.
For a long time, he sat without moving.
Eventually, his ringed fingers rested against the screen, just above the scarred shoulder bearing the old family brand.
"Ten years…" he murmured.
He had spent a decade searching for a man who'd vanished without a trace, chasing rumours through foreign ports and paying for names that led nowhere.
Now the answer sat before him, alive and well, working for a Hollywood director.
Dario withdrew his hand and looked toward the rain-streaked windows.
"Have you been hiding all this time." he whispered. "Or did you finally decide to let me find you?"
The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Their family had built its power on blood and loyalty, yet its own members had spent years hunting one another, disappearing, and leaving the rest to bury the consequences.
And now one of them had found shelter in a world that knew nothing of their name.
Dario tightened his fingers against the edge of the desk.
What a pathetic family we are.
….
[Same Time]
It was past midnight in the Hollywood Hills.
Across the lawn, about thirty yards from the brightly lit main house where Regal, Keanu, and Henry were still huddled around a computer case.
In private security, bodyguards usually don't sleep inside the client's main house.
Sharing the same living room crosses personal boundaries and makes normal family life awkward.
But living far away in an apartment doesn't work either, because driving over in an emergency takes too long.
The standard solution is simple: a private guest house right on the property.
It gives the client privacy, while keeping security just seconds away if something goes wrong.
Rock's room was plain and functional.
Just a sturdy bed, a pull-up bar, an electric kettle, and a desk with several security monitors showing live camera feeds of the gates and fences.
Rock sat on the edge of the bed wearing a tank top and cargo pants.
On his left arm, he held an ice pack over a muscle.
His thick shoulders carried old scars from his past, and on his upper right arm, the faded brand of an iron wolf and three broken chains was clearly visible.
On the small table beside him, a secure satellite phone vibrated.
Rock picked it up and answered.
["Boss."] Rook's voice came through the line. ["I believe you have been found."]
Rock didn't sound surprised.
He kept his eyes on the monitor showing the main house's kitchen window.
"We should assume as such." Rock replied in his deep, calm voice.
There was a short pause on the other end.
Rook's voice tightened. ["There's one thing I still don't understand, Boss. You could've turned down the Director's offer, and I'm sure he'd have accepted your decision. Instead, you agreed to act, and now your identity is out in the open."]
"I am aware." Rock said calmly. "Staying in one place for too long is going to revel by location sooner or later."
It was that simple.
After years of keeping his head down, the chances of his past catching up with him were growing slimmer by the day, but they would never disappear entirely.
His identity was bound to come to light sooner or later.
Rather than wait for someone else to uncover it and decide how the truth would come out, Rock had chosen to take control of the situation himself.
"For now, keep an eye out for any studios trying to establish ties with the underworld, or anyone from the underworld making approaches to them." Rock instructed.
Rook frowned. ["Boss, we haven't confirmed anything. I doubt a Hollywood studio would be stupid enough to resort to illegal methods to deal with Mr. Director."]
"I am not saying they have." Rock replied. "I want to know if anyone tries."
His concern wasn't entirely without reason.
LIE Studios had been fighting a lengthy environmental lawsuit over its planned theme park, Seraphia: The Infinite Realm.
For years, the case had dragged on, with the opposition appearing on paper to be nothing more than ordinary people with no apparent ties to Hollywood, protesting the project's environmental impact.
Now, however, the case was finally approaching its conclusion, and the ruling appeared to be leaning in LIE Studios' favor.
Rock had his doubts about the people behind the lawsuit.
He couldn't prove there was anything more to it, and he had no concrete evidence linking anyone involved to the underworld.
Still, if someone with an interest in stopping the project had connections to criminal organizations, the situation could become dangerous for Regal.
It was a stretch, perhaps.
Rock knew that as well as anyone.
But he would rather investigate a suspicion that led nowhere than ignore one that eventually put his employer at risk.
["Understood, Boss."] Rook conceded softly.
He cleared his throat, shifting into operative protocol. ["What's the status at the house tonight?"]
Rock looked back at the monitor.
"Mr. Director is in the kitchen with Henry Cavill and Keanu Reeves," Rock said, a rare hint of warmth in his voice. "They've been in there for hours, putting together a gaming PC."
Rook chuckled quietly. ["A gaming PC? Sometimes, I really can't make sense of our Boss."]
"He enjoys building things." Rock replied simply.
["And Mrs. Director?"'
"She was checking the final proofs for a new book until eleven, then had some tea and went to bed after reminding Mr. Director not to stay up too late." Rock paused.
Rook said. ["We have a security car patrolling down the road. Two men rotating every four hours."]
"Keep them two blocks away." Rock instructed.
["Copy that, Boss. Get some sleep."]
"Check in at six." Rock said.
He tapped the screen, cutting the connection.
Rook gave a brief nod. ["We have a security car patrolling the road, with two men rotating every four hours."]
"Keep them two blocks away." Rock instructed.
["Understood, Boss. Try to get some sleep."]
"Check in at six."
Rock tapped the screen, ending the call.
Once again, his fingers brushed the faded wolf tattoo on his shoulder.
Ten years ago, he had walked away from his violent mafia family, determined never to return to that life.
Now he found something better with Regal, a kid who had treated him with respect and given him a place where he could live without looking over his shoulder every day.
If you've found me, Dario, Rock thought, then you already know what stands between you and this life I've built.
He switched off the desk lamp and settled back into the quiet room, keeping watch over the house.
.
….
[To be continued…]
●──────●◎●──────●
Author Note:
Visit Patreon to instantly access +1 chapter for free, available for Free Members as well.
For additional content please do support me and gain access to +18 more chapters.
--> [email protected]/OrgoWriters