Chapter Five: Blood in the Streets
The night had lost its rhythm.
Where laughter and neon once danced, chaos now reigned. The Velvet Dominion, once the pride of the Nunca-Caer Family, was nothing but a burning skeleton, its glass walls shattered and its name stripped to smoke.
The battlefield had shifted to the open street. There were no hiding places now.
No walls, no mercy, no escape.
Gunfire tore through the air in relentless rhythm, metallic, thunderous, merciless.
The Nunca-Caer Family, bloodied but unbroken, stood against armies, the Riviera Vipers, their goal was simple - a wipeout.
"Stay behind me, Kiel!" Shayla shouted, voice cutting through the storm.
To his shock, her hands moved with terrifying precision.
Her stance was steady, eyes cold as steel, fingers smooth on the triggers of two Beretta 93Rs.
She wasn't just defending herself, she was dominating.
Each shot was a statement of marksmanship.
Head. Heart. Shoulder. Head.
No wasted bullet, no hesitation.
The air around her seemed to bend with her accuracy, her movements fluid and calculated, almost beautiful in their lethality.
"You... you can shoot like that?" Kiel yelled between breaths, eyes wide.
"I grew up in a Mafia household, remember?" she said, reloading mid-spin. The magazine snapped in with a metallic click.
"Brian isn't the only one that knows ball, besides you need survival skills to actually survive ."
A Viper charged from behind, swinging a blade. Shayla dropped low, pivoted, and struck with her left leg in a perfect Aikido turn, twisting his arm and using his momentum to send him crashing into the hood of a burning car. She finished him with a clean shot to the chest.
"That's for underestimating me," she hissed, standing tall again.
Her movements carried the grace of a dancer but the precision of a trained assassin. She was a dual wielder, a rare marksmanship level that few ever mastered, two pistols, two death sentences, one heartbeat apart.
Kiel had never fought a war like this.
The stench of gasoline and blood filled his lungs, the heat from burning cars painted his face in sweat and smoke.
He ducked as bullets screamed past, rolling to cover behind an overturned bike. A Viper lunged, machete raised. Kiel caught him by his forearm, kicked the man's knee sideways, and countered with a fierce Muay Thai elbow strike to the jaw. The man fell instantly.
"One down," he muttered, voice trembling but steady.
Another came from the left, knife in hand, a karambit, curved and hungry. Kiel sidestepped, caught the attacker's wrist, and twisted. The blade clattered to the ground. He grabbed it, flipped it in his hand, and drove it straight back into the man's shoulder.
He was surviving, barely, but every movement was proof that his training was no child's play.
Brian appeared beside him, firing controlled bursts from his MP5. "Don't freeze up, kid! Aim small, miss small!"
"I'm not freezing!" Kiel yelled, ducking another shot.
"Then keep it that way!"
Brian's presence was a wall, blocking bullets, returning fire, dragging wounded men back when he could. His loyalty was a shield around both Shayla and Kiel.
At the street's heart, Matt Marino stood like a monument carved out of defiance.
Smoke curled around him. His black coat fluttered as if it bore its own will. His Desert Eagle gleamed red from the firelight.
He fired, ducked, and pivoted with surgical precision. But even lions bleed.
A bullet tore through his left thigh.
He dropped to one knee, groaning, blood soaking his pants.
"Boss!" Brian shouted, dragging him behind a burnt car.
"It's nothing," Matt hissed through clenched teeth, pressing a hand to the wound. "Just a scratch."
But the limp was visible. Every step was painful.
Still, he refused to fall.
"Keep pushing forward!" he commanded, firing through the smoke.
"We are the Nunca-Caer Family! We don't die on our knees!"
The men roared, recharged by his defiance.
From a distance, two silhouettes emerged, Salvatore "The Fang" Vitello of the Riviera Vipers, and Luca "Red Wolf" Morano, leader of the Crimson Jackals.
Their handshake under the burning sky sealed the nightmare.
"Never thought I'd fight beside a Viper," Luca smirked.
"Only until the Nunca-caers are gone," Salvatore replied coldly.
They advanced together, commanding their armies with ruthless precision. Machine guns rattled, grenades flew, and the streets turned into a slaughterhouse.
The Nunca-Caer line broke, slowly, painfully.
"They're everywhere!" a foot soldier shouted.
"We're being overrun!"
"Hold them!" Brian yelled back, firing until his gun clicked empty.
"Matt, we need to fall back!" Shayla cried.
"If we stay, we die here!"
Matt gritted his teeth. The smoke stung his eyes. The sky burned above him.
"Alright," he said finally. "Pull back! Use the alleys!"
The battle spilled into the side streets, the alleys, the rooftops.
Gunfire echoed from every corner of Kearny. Bottles shattered, glass flew, knives flashed in the dim light.
Men fought with everything, guns, daggers, bowie knives, switchblades, karambits, even broken glass shards gripped like claws.
Blood painted the pavement.
Shayla slammed a man's head against a wall, disarmed him, and used his own switchblade to cut him down.
Kiel dodged a swing, countered with a knee to the gut, and caught another enemy's machete mid-swing.
Brian fought like a storm, short bursts, efficient kills, constant awareness. He shot two men before they could flank Kiel, then dragged Shayla behind cover as another grenade went off.
Matt limped through the chaos, still fighting. His gun was nearly empty, his vision blurred, but his will was iron.
"This isn't how it ends," he muttered, firing again. "Not tonight."
Headlights cut through the smoke, the long-awaited Nunca-Caer reinforcements.
Armored SUVs screeched into the street, gunmen pouring out, rifles blazing.
The tide shifted, albeit slightly.
The Vipers and Jackals staggered, several men falling in the first barrage. Salvatore cursed under his breath, signaling his men to spread.
"They're here!" Brian yelled.
"Good," Matt said, raising his weapon. "Then let's make them regret coming."
For a few fleeting minutes, it looked winnable, until the second wave of Jackals appeared from the south, their numbers doubling the enemy ranks again.
"No..." Shayla whispered, eyes wide. "They brought their entire army."
Matt's expression hardened. He knew.
"A wipeout," he said quietly. "That was their purpose all along."
And as more enemies flooded the streets, it became clear,
The Never-Fall Family was now fighting for survival, not dominance.