The streets were covered in blood.

Men dragged what was left of the bodies to the acid drums. Others scrubbed congealed blood from the pavement.

The last shootout was brutal. It started as a turf dispute on Greystone borders between Bellini’s men and Vargas's muscle.

Angelique made sure both sides bled.

The streets become quiet for days; no one refuses to step out of their homes until the fear fades.

It’s always like this when something bad happens.

Sometimes, when the fighting gets worse, a lockdown is issued for weeks.

In Calderra, no one is ever truly safe. The city is divided into four parts, each ruled by a different monster. Nothing was ever legal—they just agreed on the borders they claimed.

Dante Bellini ruled Bellamy Heights in the west.

Salvatore Lombardo held the south in Lombard Hollow.

Rafael Vargas dominated the north in Vargas Reach.

And Angelique Grey reigned over Greystone Row in the east.

She’s the only woman—and the most feared.

Slender and poised, with waist-length hair and doe-brown eyes that held nothing innocent.

Angelique’s bare feet soaked in the blood-slicked pavement, one hand steady with wine, the other smoldering with a half-burnt cigarette, soaking in the audacity of Bellini and Vargas messing on her turf.

“Madam, it’s done,” said Marco Diaz, her cousin.

“Obviously,” she said, blowing smoke into the air. “No survivors? None of them were breathing?”

“If they were, we made sure they didn’t talk,” Marco assured, standing next to her. “Are you going to reach out to Bellini and Vargas? I can ready our men.”

Angelique tilted her head to him and exhaled smoke straight into his face. Marco didn’t move or cough at the stench.

She tapped the ashes on the hood. “Not yet.”

“They disrupted the peace of our—“

“I said not yet.”

She looked away.

“Do you think this is happening because you refused to endorse Elias Montoya for re-election? Could be a warning,” Marco suggested.

“Neither of them is stupid enough to provoke me over politics. It was something else. But trust me—they'll be dealt with,” Anqelique said.

---

Angelique returns to the Greystone quarters, leaving Marco to oversee the night watch of the town.

When she arrived, Kaya, her right hand, rushed to meet her.

“Santino Russo came to see you. He’s been waiting an hour,” Kaya said.

“What would this be about? Did anyone tell him about what happened?”

“No. He says it’s something different, says it’s urgent,” Kaya said as she followed her upstairs.

“I hope he’s not in my office. That scumbag always has something to say just for money,” Angelique muttered.

“I made sure he waited for you outside,” Kaya said, opening the door. “I’ll bring him in.”

In her surveillance room, Santino passed a file to her.

“Things are changing,” he said.

“This better be worth my time."

"I think you’ll like this." Santino smiled. She knew that smile—whatever he brought, it was worth her attention.

“My patience is wearing thin, Russo. Speak."

"A lieutenant detective was transferred this morning from headquarters." Santino said, a smile still lingering. “His hands are clean.”

“Really?” She arched a brow.

She opened the file.

"No picture?" she said. "How convenient."

Nolan Chase, 32 years old, Lieutenant Detective.

“He just got promoted."

She didn’t answer. Folded the page in half.

“I see that,” she said, passing it back. “Internal Affairs? He’s going to interfere, isn’t he?”

Santino nodded. “Captain Miguel Vargas didn’t request him. Says it was a surprise placement.”

“Good. The Vargas family wouldn’t be stupid enough to request someone like him.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “This is not a problem.”

“He’s already requesting old records. I think he might—”

“This is not a problem,” she repeated, firm.

“Yes, Madam.” Santino stepped back.

“Get your pay from Kaya. And be discreet when you leave.”

Her eyes turned to the surveillance wall—dozens of feeds across Calderra. The traffic in Bellamy Heights. A bank raid in Vargas Reach. A judge slipping into his mistress’s car in Lombard Hollow.

And then, her own.

A black G-Wagon rolled up on the screen, sleek and slow.

A man stepped out, tall, maybe six-four. She didn’t see his face.

She tried to zoom in.

Nolan Chase didn’t look like a threat. Which meant he probably was.

“I could watch him for you,” Santino offered.

She leaned closer to the screen, curious. Hungry.

“Keep your distance,” she said. “For now.”

“He seems like a tough nut to crack.”

Angelique eased into a chair. “I want him tested.”

A voice cut in from the doorway. Marco.

"Tested?" Marco echoed. "Who?”

Angelique shot him a glance. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I forgot something.”

“And you couldn’t send someone to get it?”

“I did. But I wanted to ask—do you have a word for me?”

“Speak.”

Marco hesitated, not wanting to speak in front of Santino.

“Santino. Leave us,” Angelique ordered.

He passed Marco without a word, avoiding his gaze.

“There’s a new detective—”

“I was told.”

“Is that who you want tested?”

“He’s new. We weren’t warned. Santino says even Miguel’s confused. I need you to confirm how. And I want him to step out of line.”

She watched the screen as Nolan entered his car.

Marco raised a brow. “And if he doesn’t?”

Angelique smiled faintly. “Then we make one.”