Freya poured a drink for the Triad master—a massive man with tan skin and an imposing presence. She then returned to her seat across from a younger man.
"How was the meeting with the association?" the large man asked, his voice deep and intimidating.
"It went well."
"I heard they officially invited Don Angel?" the other man, Marxon, chimed in.
"Yes," she replied curtly.
"Why would they do that? It's clear the association has become a joke. Since when do they let just anyone join? Father, don't you think it's time we left that stupid association?" Marxon asked the Triad boss.
"If we did, we could declare war on all of them and take everything for ourselves."
Freya scoffed. "You think we can take down the association all by ourselves?"
"Of course we can. I wouldn't expect you to understand—you're just as useless as the rest of them," he said, his lip curling in disgust.
"That's enough, Marxon," the Triad master interrupted. "The association still has its uses."
He turned to Freya. "And I heard something happened to our drugs?"
Her body tensed. She didn't lift her head, but she could practically feel Marxon grinning with satisfaction. He must have told his father what happened.
"Yes," she said. "Our men were attacked during transport. We believe they were killed, but no bodies have been found yet."
"And the drugs?" Marxon asked.
"They were all… destroyed," she admitted. "But I'll personally shoulder the losses."
"Of course you will," Marxon sneered. "It was your brilliant idea to get involved with Don Angel in the first place."
"Do you know who did it?" the Triad master asked.
"Not yet, but I suspect Don Angel. He said his drugs were stolen the night before, so maybe he assumed I was involved and acted out of revenge."
"And were you?" the Triad master asked, staring at her.
Freya hesitated. She couldn't deny it carelessly, if he ever found out, it could cost her dearly. But she had been meticulous. The police officers she used for the job were hired personally by her, not Marxon. There was no way he could know.
"I had nothing to do with it," she said confidently.
The Triad master looked to Marxon as if expecting a different answer.
"My mole inside the Don Angel's gang hasn't said anything, but who else could it be?"
"we have to make him pay," Marxon said, clenching his fist. "We need to show him what happens when you mess with the Triad."
The Triad master paused for a few moments before speaking again.
"Angel is now a part of the association, right? Inform them about this first."
"Okay," Freya responded.
"No. I want Marxon to handle it. They need to understand how serious this is."
"But I ca—"
"I said Marxon will do it. And do it with Don Angel present."
Both Freya and Marxon looked surprised.
"Ask him why he attacked us," the Triad master continued. "If he doesn't have a good reason, kill him on the spot. Understood?" he took a sip of his drink.
Marxon gave a slight bow. "Yes, Father."
Freya clenched her jaw in frustration.
"You may both leave."
Outside, just as Freya was about to enter her car, Marxon walked up and stopped her.
"Don't be so upset, Freya. We're all on the same team."
She scoffed. "You think I care?"
"You don't have to pretend. I've known you for years, you really think I wouldn't notice when you're pissed?"
She grit her teeth. He made it sound like he was concerned, but she knew he was only rubbing salt in the wound.
"Well, it's none of your business. So fuck off."
"Oh, that's no way to speak to your future husband, now is it?"
Her glare intensified. "I'm never going to marry a bastard like you."
"Of course you will. You don't have a choice. Once my father dies, who do you think will be in charge, you?"
He stepped closer, sneering. "I'll take control of everything. And by then, you'll be mine. I'll treat you like the glorified whore you are," he said, reaching out and cupping her breast.
She lashed out with a slap, but he leaned back, dodging it.
"I love how feisty you are. It's one of my favorite things about you," he chuckled.
"But don't worry," he added coldly. "You'll come around. I always get what I want."
Then he turned and walked away, leaving Freya fuming.
As she sat in the back of her vehicle, her rage simmered. The thought that her father, her own father had founded this gang, only for it to fall into the hands of these two scumbags, filled her with disgust.
Marxon's father had once been her father's assistant. After her father died, the man swooped in like a vulture and claimed everything for himself, leaving her with scraps.
That's why she was desperate. She needed to take back control.
"Madame," her driver, James, the handsome blond man with calm, sharp eyes said, breaking her thoughts. "We may have found something that could help us locate that man."
"What is it?" she asked.
"The dead man had a daughter. She attends K-City College. I've already sent a team to find her and bring her in."
"Good," Freya exhaled. At least now, she could finally start tying up loose ends.
….
Vincent stood outside Don Angel's office, waiting to be called in. After a few moments, Jay stepped out and gave him a nod.
"You can go in."
Inside, Don Angel greeted him warmly. "Vinnie, how are you?"
"I'm fine, boss. Thank you for the car and the clothes," Vincent replied, bowing slightly.
"You're welcome. Jay told me you did a good job out there, have you had dinner yet?" Don Angel asked.
Vincent shook his head.
"Good. We can eat together. Take a seat," he said with a friendly smile.
Soon, a full course meal was laid out on the table—plates of steaming food, rich aromas filling the room.
"Eat as much as you like."
Vincent hesitated for a moment, then accepted the offer. He cut a small piece of steak and placed it in his mouth. As he chewed, his eyes drifted toward the only other person in the room—a silent, imposing man with a large scar across his face, standing motionless in the back like a statue.
'Is he always like that?' Vincent wondered, just before Don Angel pulled his attention back.
"So, Vinnie… aren't you going to ask me?" he said.
"Ask you what?" Vincent replied.
"What you've been dying to know, of course."
Vincent blinked, a bit thrown off. "I don't think I have anything to ask."
"No," Don Angel said with a faint smile. "I think you do. I think you want to know why I sent you and your friend out there to die."
Vincent nearly choked on his food.