Saint Denis, Bronte's Mansion.
"Damn it, that idiot Martelli! He's brought disgrace upon me. Eighty elite men, wiped out just like that—has water gotten into his brain?"
"He's ruined my plans, that cursed fool. And that Callander bastard—I'll make him pay dearly!"
Bronte's had just received news that all the men he'd sent out had been wiped out, along with the capture of Martelli. The report sent him into a furious rage, mixed with a faint but unmistakable sense of unease.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt such a serious threat.
Those were eighty capable fighters. Compared to the full strength of his family, it might not have been overwhelming, but it was still a force that couldn't be ignored. He had even sent out his most trusted subordinate, Martelli.
The result was something he simply couldn't accept.
The men standing nearby didn't dare speak. They lowered their heads, waiting for Mr. Bronte's temper to cool.
After smashing several exquisite porcelain pieces, Bronte's finally calmed down. Looking at the shards scattered across the floor, he felt a sharp pang of regret.
These porcelains had all been shipped from the distant East—top-grade goods, each one extremely valuable. That realization only worsened his mood.
Worse still, he now had to figure out how to get those captured men back, whether by paying ransom or attempting a rescue. Looking at his subordinates, he felt the odds of a successful rescue were slim—and it might cost even more lives.
"Sir, perhaps we should hire assassins to deal with that Callander who dared offend you," one of his men suggested.
The Mafia was never short on killers. They would assassinate anyone—government officials, wealthy tycoons, rival family bosses, or gang leaders.
But Bronte's fell silent at the suggestion.
He knew very well that sending assassins after Davey would mean open warfare between the two sides. From the fact that eighty elite men had been wiped out, it was clear that Davey's fighting strength was far greater than he had expected. He had to admit it—those brutes surviving in the West were far more vicious than the so-called civilized people living in the city.
More importantly, such a conflict wasn't worth it for him. His business in Saint Denis would suffer serious losses.
And most crucially of all, the moonshine ranch in Rhodes was only one of Davey's branches. His real base was in Valentine.
"Luca, I need you to go to Valentine," Bronte's said at last. "Meet that Mr. Callander and talk to him about Martelli."
"With your eloquence, I believe you can persuade that proud gentleman. Show him a bit of respect. If possible, I think he's now qualified to discuss cooperation with me."
"After all, one more friend is better than one more enemy, wouldn't you say?"
After a brief silence, Bronte's ignored the subordinate who had spoken earlier and instead gave his orders to his servant, Luca Napoli.
Luca Napoli was both his servant and his confidant. Most of his business affairs were handled by Luca.
"At your service, sir," Luca Napoli replied, lowering his head slightly with a respectful bow.
After Luca Napoli left, Bronte's turned to another subordinate.
"Arrange a meeting with the mayor. I intend to make some charitable donations to the city government—and to the police department as well."
"I'm sure the mayor will be very pleased."
A man like Bronte's would never truly cooperate with Davey, especially after losing so many men. If word of this spread to the other Mafia family bosses, he would lose all face.
So Bronte's intended to use the government's power to deal with Davey, no matter how many dollars it cost.
After all, Davey Callander was, in the end, still a wanted criminal.
...
Valentine, Land Farm.
Inside Davey's mansion.
"Davey, what's got you in such a good mood?" Arthur asked as he passed through the hall and saw Davey smiling at a letter in his hands.
Davey put the letter away and replied, "Of course it's something worth being happy about, Arthur. This is a telegram from Trelawny. He told me the Laramie Gang has accepted the job. They're about to head for a place called Aberdeen Pig Farm."
"Naturally, I've already bought that place. Waiting for them will be our hired men. That Laramie fellow will be captured alive and brought back to my farm—if he's lucky enough to survive."
Arthur knew a bit about the feud between Davey and the Laramie Gang.
"Well, Davey, that does sound promising," Arthur said. "If I weren't injured, I'd be very interested in helping out. But right now, you know—I'm afraid I can't even handle a gun."
"That's fine," Davey replied. "You need to rest properly for now. The rest will be taken care of by others."
"The Laramie Gang are nothing more than small-time trash. Our hired men can deal with them easily."
Arthur recalled the training scenes he had seen earlier and nodded.
"Yeah. Those boys really are impressive."