"What?" Vincent asked, eyes wide with disbelief.
"No need to pretend like you haven't thought about it," Don Angel said, still wearing that small, knowing smile.
"It was obvious what happened that night. And yes, I suspected it was a trap. That's why I sent you and your friend instead of one of my men," he added, taking a sip of wine.
Vincent froze. What was Don Angel aiming for? Why admit this now?
Was it another test?
Or did he simply think Vincent couldn't do anything about it?
Vincent didn't know. But either way, the man had just confirmed what he already suspected.
"Do you blame me for your friend's death?" Don Angel asked.
Vincent didn't respond. He just kept staring at the table.
"To be honest, I can't even bother with excuses. People think I'm just a gangster, but that's only part of who I am. I'm a businessman. I calculate risk and reward. That's how I got here."
"If I make a move, it's because it's worth the price. Do you understand me?"
"Everyone who works for me is a chess piece. Back then, you were a pawn. But now," he said, setting down his glass, "I've promoted you to my knight."
"I can't bring back your friend. But I can offer you something else."
Vincent finally looked up. "And what's that?"
"A chance at greatness. Think about it, if you hadn't gone for that drop, hadn't been shot, or if your friend hadn't died… you wouldn't be sitting in this room today."
He wasn't wrong. Just days ago, Vincent had been sick of his life. It was so pathetic it didn't even deserve to be called mediocre. He was living in survival mode, unsure where his next meal would come from.
But was Archie's death worth the expensive suit he was now wearing?
'No way in hell.'
Sarah didn't have to become an orphan just so he could be here.
Vincent chuckled bitterly. "Is that what you think?"
"You really believe all of this is worth more than a human life?"
"Yes, I do," Don Angel replied without hesitation. "And soon, you will too."
"You'll come to understand that every life has a price, especially in our line of business."
"So what was the price for Archie's life?"
Don Angel sighed. "That's not for me to say. The price… is whatever you decide it is."
Vincent's jaw tightened. "And what if I decide the price is your life?"
Scarface tensed, his glare sharp, ready to move—but the boss raised a hand, halting him.
"Then so be it," Don Angel said calmly. "Let me tell you something… Do you know why wolves don't attack the alpha, Vinnie?"
He gently swirled his wine glass, watching the liquid spiral.
"It's not because they love him. It's because they understand the chain. The balance."
He set the glass down and locked eyes with Vincent.
"But every now and then, a younger wolf starts to wonder—maybe the alpha's getting old. Maybe he's not as sharp. And maybe… just maybe, the pack would follow him instead."
He leaned back, that faint smile returning.
"That wolf has two choices: challenge the alpha… or stay close, learn his steps, and wait until he can take the crown without spilling a drop of blood."
"That's the smart wolf."
He exhaled slowly.
"You remind me of him, Vinnie. That's why I'm offering you something most men spend their lives begging for—a seat at the table. But understand this—"
His voice dipped to a near-whisper.
"The day you bare your fangs at me… they better be sharp enough to kill me. Because if I survive, I won't just bite back. I'll rip your damn throat out."
He smiled again—kind, charming… and terrifying.
"So, ask yourself… what do you truly want from life?" He leaned forward, then added softly, "Now. Shall we eat?"
Vincent sat frozen, his horrified eyes wide open with Don Angel's words echoing in his mind,
They ate in silence.
After the meal, Don Angel walked him to his car. Just the two of them.
When they got there, Don leaned against the door, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and offered one.
Vincent took it.
He sparked Don Angel's cigarette, then lit his own.
The boss inhaled deeply, then exhaled. "Vinnie… there's something I need you to do for me."
He glanced at Vincent.
"I believe someone in our organization is leaking information. I need you to find them."
Vincent's eyes widened. "Y-you want me to find the mole?"
"Do I have to repeat myself?"
"N-no, boss. It's just… I barely understand how things work around here. I hardly even know anyone. How am I supposed to figure out who the rat is?"
"That's for you to work out. All you need to know is—it's not Jay, Gutter, or Scarface. I can't be sure about the rest."
"But why me?"
"Because I believe you can do it. You have two weeks."
He dropped his cigarette and walked away.
"Oh… and don't tell anyone."
"I can do it…?" Vincent whispered.
That night, Vincent lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep.
'What did he mean by "I can do it"?'
"How the hell am I supposed to find a mole when I barely know anyone?!"
"Is that guy actually insane?" he hissed, then quickly remembered—they lived under the same roof. He shut up immediately.
He sighed.
The Yellowsaber gang rewarded competence. If he wanted to be taken seriously, he needed to get this done. It was the first job Don Angel had personally given him. Failure wasn't an option.
"Maybe this is my opportunity. If I pull this off, Don Angel will truly acknowledge me."
But then another thought crept in.
'Why do I want his acknowledgement? He's the reason Archie is dead.'
Don Angel's words played in his head again. It was true, Archie's death had brought him here. Maybe not in the best way… but it had led to this moment.
Still, was he going to let the man control him just because of that?
If so… for how long?
How long before he made his move against the man who claimed to be his savior?
One thing was certain, Don Angel wasn't as invincible as he liked to think and Vincent was going to be the one to show him that.
But for now, Vincent knew what he had to do,
Play the smart wolf.
And pretend his fangs weren't growing sharper by the day.