Tommy and Marshal went back a long way.

They belonged to the same era.

As everyone in the underground liked to say, their world wasn’t as vast as people imagined. It was a small world filled with narrow, bleak roads.

Sooner or later, one was bound to step on someone else’s toes, whether or not they liked it.

The two men had known each other long before they reached adulthood.

They started as young delinquents before eventually getting involved in gang activities.

Later, they joined different gangs—gangs that happened to be bitter rivals.

Street fights.

Territory disputes.

Bloody brawls.

That became their youth.

Tommy had never liked Marshal, even before they found themselves on opposing sides.

Their views simply could never align.

How could they?

Marshal found excitement in that world.

Tommy had simply been born into it. It’s the only thing he knew, and the only way of life he understood.

While Marshal enjoyed standing above the weak and exercising power over them, Tommy constantly wrestled with his own conscience.

Marshal picked on anyone, regardless of whether they belonged to a gang.

Tommy only fought members of rival gangs. He left their families alone. He left innocent people alone.

He never wanted to drag those who had nothing to do with that filthy world into its stench.

So... how could the two of them ever get along?

As adults, the gang Tommy belonged to was eventually absorbed by a much larger organization.

From that moment on, his life changed forever.

He climbed the ranks through sheer grit. Leadership, determination, and years of relentless effort eventually led him to the very top.

The transition wasn’t difficult.

Not when most members of the organization already respected him. Under Tommy’s leadership, the organization grew stronger than ever before.

An empire built on blood disguised as glory...

Politics disguised as connections...

And wealth born from illegal dealings.

Tommy was no saint.

Even after retiring, he never forgot what it had cost him to reach the peak he had once believed to be his ultimate destination.

Most importantly, he never forgot everything he had sacrificed—and everyone he had lost—to stand there.

Marshal, on the other hand, drifted from one gang to another before eventually forming one of his own.

Its members were former members of the very gangs he had abandoned.

In other words, Marshal had already stepped on countless toes even in his youth. He had stolen men from his former organizations to build his own.

Eventually, fate placed a formidable benefactor in his path.

That encounter propelled his small gang into becoming what would eventually be known as the Di Carpio Family.

Over the years, the Di Carpio Family steadily carved its name into the underground.

Today, it stood as the second-largest mafia organization, built upon one successful venture after another. Especially with their success in recent years, they seemed unstoppable.

From the outside, it seemed as though Tommy and Marshal had simply walked separate paths.

But reality was far different.

No matter where their ambitions took them, the underground was simply too small.

Shared interests.

Conflicting businesses.

Territorial disputes.

Political alliances.

With all those things, it was inevitable for their paths to cross.

And every meeting left another scar between them.

*****

[Di Carpio Family]

BAM!

Marshal slammed his palm against the desk.

The muscles on his face twitched as anger flared in his eyes.

"That fucker..." He laughed darkly while running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "So that motherfucker’s still alive, huh?"

Scott quietly exhaled as he stood beside his boss.

"I withdrew our men before things escalated," he reported in his usual emotionless tone.

Marshal scoffed before shifting his gaze toward him.

Surprisingly, he didn’t vent his anger on Scott.

Earlier that day, Scott had received a report from the men escorting Isabella and June.

According to them, several of Tommy’s people had intercepted them and delivered a message from their boss.

The message was simple.

"This city is too small for the both of us."

It was simple, yet unmistakable.

The moment Scott received the report, he immediately ordered all of their men to withdraw from the city. He didn’t even hesitate.

This was Tommy.

The man might have retired, but only a fool would treat him like an ordinary old man.

Everyone knew what Tommy had done to earn his freedom.

He hadn’t simply walked away.

He had carved himself a path out of the underground...

One corpse at a time.

Scott shifted his attention back to Marshal.

The latter had fallen into thought, his narrowed eyes fixed on nothing.

Finally, Marshal spoke.

"What about Isabella?" He looked toward Scott. "Who’s with her now?"

"June’s security team is still with them," Scott answered. "I left only a handful of our men behind. The rest have already withdrawn."

Marshal nodded before dropping into the chair behind his desk.

"Should I kill him?" he muttered to himself.

Scott lowered his eyes.

Deep down, he knew Marshal never would.

Scott had been beside Marshal for as long as he could remember.

Even so, he had never truly understood Marshal’s obsession with Tommy.

By the time Scott first met him, Marshal already harbored deep hostility toward the man.

Over the years, that hatred had only grown.

Yet despite all those years, Marshal had never succeeded in removing Tommy from the board. All he ever managed to do was interfere with him.

"Hahaha!" Marshal suddenly burst into laughter, slapping the desk again.

"This is interesting."

A sinister grin spread across his face.

"Tommy... Tommy..." He laughed again. "You bastard."

His eyes gleamed. "I’m not done with you yet."

Scott remained silent, studying Marshal’s profile before speaking.

"I’ll see what I can dig up on him."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and left.

The moment Scott stepped outside the office, he glanced back at the closed door and sighed quietly.

"When will he stop targeting him?" he wondered. "Hasn’t he gotten tired of this already?"

His eyes lowered slightly.

A complicated emotion crossed his face. Something that almost resembled pity.

Then, without another word, Scott quietly walked away with one thought in mind.

Has Marshal not grown tired when he has already gotten the worst revenge he could?