Gonda’s wine glass would not stay still.

He was sitting in the private room behind his main base, with the television muted on the wall and the news text still running below the screen. The glass in his hand trembled enough that the red wine touched the rim twice.

Kundra stood behind him.

He was silent, but even he looked shaken.

Only a short while ago, Gonda had sat across from the old man of World Zone and heard him speak of Maren Voss like a piece already placed on their side. Maren was supposed to be part of their arrangement. Maren was supposed to help World Zone enter the local underworld properly.

Now Maren was dead, and not quietly or in some personal fight. He had been hit on the road in a way that every gang in the province would hear about before night.

To normal people, it would look like another gang fight. One more violent man killed by other violent men. They would talk for a day and move on.

Gonda was not normal people.

He knew what this meant.

This was a message.

It said that a gang could choose any side it wanted, but if it crossed the wrong organization, its leader could be removed before the alliance even settled.

It also said that information had leaked before Maren could enjoy the protection he had been promised. A normal enemy would not know the timing. A normal enemy would not strike exactly when Maren was carrying the first shipment for World Zone. Whoever did this had known enough to choose the worst moment.

That thought made Gonda’s back feel cold.

One gang leader had died, one new leader would rise, and both movements pointed back to the same invisible hand.

Gonda took a drink, but the wine tasted bitter.

Until this moment, he had still believed he could shift if he found a stronger face. Wil’s organization had not shown soldiers, offices, or a real name. They had shown information and pressure, yes, but Gonda had told himself that maybe Bruno was feeding them more than they truly knew.

That thought looked foolish now.

Maren Voss had not been a small man. Rust Gate Crew was not a weak group. If Wil’s side could touch him this fast, then Gonda had been playing beside a pit without looking down.

His mind returned to the hotel meeting.

The old man had told him to find the name of the nameless organization.

How was he supposed to do that now?

If he dug too much and Wil found out, Gonda would become the next message. If he did nothing, World Zone would start pressing him. He had placed himself between two hands, and both could close around his throat.

He forced himself to breathe slowly.

’Nothing will happen,’ he thought. ’They do not know about the meeting. Wil and Bruno do not know.’

He repeated the thought again.

It did not become stronger.

Kundra finally spoke.

"Boss," he said carefully, "what do we do?"

Gonda looked at the television again.

The news replayed a blurred image of the truck. The anchor said Maren’s name once more.

Under the table, Gonda’s foot moved once and stopped. He hated that small weakness. Kundra had seen him threaten ministers, police, smugglers, and rival bosses without blinking. Now a news report was making him feel like a man sitting under a falling roof.

He forced his face into a calm line before turning.

Gonda placed the glass on the table before his hand could shake again.

"We do not panic," he said.

Kundra waited.

Gonda wiped one hand over his mouth. "This is exactly why we do not move openly. If World Zone asks, we say we are still trying to learn who Wil’s people are. If Wil asks, we say nothing about World Zone."

"And Bruno?"

That name stayed in the room for a second.

Gonda hated that the answer depended on Bruno.

He hated it more because it was true.

"Bruno is the key," Gonda said. "He is the bridge. As long as he does not know about our meeting, Wil’s side will not know from him. And if Wil’s side needs us, they will speak through that bridge before cutting us."

Kundra did not look convinced.

"Can Bruno be trusted?"

Gonda gave a short laugh.

"No."

That answer was honest.

Kundra did not look surprised.

No one who knew Bruno well would be surprised.

"But Bruno wants to live," Gonda said. "That makes him useful. He wants Wil’s side to trust him. He wants me to keep him alive. He is standing between both fears, and that means he will keep the bridge open."

Kundra lowered his head.

Gonda leaned back, trying to look calm even though his shirt stuck to his skin.

The worst part was that Bruno had become safer after Maren’s death. Before this, Gonda could still imagine killing him and explaining it later. Now that idea was dangerous. If Bruno died suddenly, Wil might take it as rebellion.

The bridge had become a shield.

And that shield did not belong fully to Gonda anymore.

That was what made him angriest. For years, every important man under him existed because he allowed it. Bruno had broken that rule. He now stood partly under another shadow, and Gonda had to pretend that keeping him alive was strategy instead of helplessness.

Gonda looked at the screen again.

Maren’s photograph appeared beside the anchor.

"For now," Gonda said, "we hold Bruno close, watch him, use him, and make sure he never learns where I went today."

"Should we move him somewhere?" Kundra asked.

"No," Gonda said. "If we move him suddenly, he will know we are afraid. Let him think he has become valuable. Valuable men become careless faster than frightened men."

Kundra nodded slowly.

That was all Gonda had for now. It was not enough, but it was the only piece still fully in his hand.

Gonda picked up the wine glass again.

This time he held it with both hands.