At last, the Saint Denis newspapers published the news of Bronte's disappearance.
As the story spread, the entire city was thrown into turmoil.
The wealthy had known for some time. The real unrest came from Saint Denis's various gangs.
Until now, the Italian Mafia had dominated the city. Through ruthless methods, Bronte had secured the largest share of the gray-market pie.
Now that Bronte was dead, every gang began to stir.
In Saint Denis, aside from the Italian Mafia, the most powerful forces were the Irish gangs and the Mexican gangs.
The United States was a nation of immigrants; the indigenous population was already small.
Many immigrant groups had settled across this land. The largest were the British. In the early days of the country, three-quarters of the population had been of British descent. Even now, most of the upper class remained British.
Next came the Germans. Yet German immigrants had rarely formed large criminal organizations. Most possessed skilled trades and craftsmanship, quickly rising into the middle class. The conditions simply hadn't favored large-scale gang formation.
After them came the Irish, African Americans, Mexicans, and others.
As the third-largest ethnic group, the Irish supplied the largest pool of manpower within Saint Denis's underworld.
But numbers did not mean dominance.
Unlike the Germans, Irish immigrants had fled hardship. In the mid-19th century, the Great Potato Famine devastated Ireland. Millions were forced to leave due to hunger and poverty. The United States, with its vast land and growing industries hungry for labor, became their primary destination.
Most Irish immigrants came from the poorest southern and western regions of Ireland—largely illiterate farmers with few skills. They could only take the lowest-paying jobs.
By the 1890s, as industry shifted and positions grew scarce, a flood of new immigrants forced the Irish to compete with African Americans and other newcomers for the worst wages.
For many, joining a gang became an alternative. Even a small cut from gang activity paid better than honest labor.
Mexicans were fewer in number. Many crossed over due to proximity, and while they were more concentrated in the poorer western regions, Saint Denis still had its share.
The Italians were fewer still—but the Mafia operated as a structured organization. They were the regular army of the underworld, far more disciplined than the loose networks of impoverished immigrants.
Bronte had built the Italian Mafia in Saint Denis precisely because of that structure—clear hierarchy, ambition, and connections to the Eastern Mafia. Even limited support from the East was more than the lower-tier gangs could ever hope for.
When a king falls, the vultures circle.
By all rights, Bronte's death should have meant everyone dividing his empire.
But because of Davey, that was unlikely.
...
Land Manor.
Davey listened quietly as Trappett of the Saint Denis Police Department reported over the telephone.
"Mr. Land, as instructed, I've deployed all officers to protect your properties."
"This may be the largest disturbance Saint Denis has ever seen."
"There are too many of them—the Irish gangs, the Mexican gangs. They've mobilized large numbers to cause trouble."
"Rest assured, Mr. Land, we will protect your assets. There will be no losses."
"I've ordered that any illegally gathered gang members may be shot on sight."
"Chief Benjamin is unhappy with me. But the officers understand he won't be chief for much longer. They'd rather follow my orders—no, your orders, Mr. Land."
As Davey held the receiver, sporadic gunshots echoed from outside.
Though the gangs had gathered in large numbers, once the officers began firing, they quickly scattered.
Davey smiled.
"Congratulations, Officer Trappett. I'm sure the City Council will appreciate your contribution. Saint Denis maintains order because of you."
On the other end, Trappett stood straight.
"Thank you for the praise, Mr. Land."
"I won't forget your assistance, Officer Trappett. I imagine before long I'll be calling you Chief Trappett."
"It is my honor to serve you, Mr. Land."
Davey hung up.
Elisa immediately brought him a lit cigar.
These gangs were nothing more than rabble. Most of them barely had a revolver between them. They stood no chance against trained officers—especially with Davey's own men already guarding the premises.
The unrest rose quickly.
And it faded just as quickly.
...
That evening, Mac brought someone to see Davey.
"Davey, this is Callum O'Sullivan, head of the O'Sullivan gang. He wants to talk."
Callum stood stiffly and bowed.
"Mr. Land."
Davey frowned slightly. He glanced at Callum but said nothing, turning instead to Mac.
Bringing someone unannounced was disrespectful.
Mac quickly explained, "Callum's from the south too. Our fathers might've come from the same place."
That reminder stirred something.
The Callander brothers' father had emigrated from southern Ireland.
Still, Davey himself had no memory of Ireland. The brothers had been born in the United States.
"Mac. Come upstairs."
"Elisa, see to Mr. Callum."
...
Upstairs. The study.
Davey looked at his brother.
"Tell me what you're thinking."
Mac scratched his head, a little embarrassed.
"Davey… I met Callum at the Saint Denis Casino. He's there often. When the gangs started planning trouble, he tipped me off early."
"Have you forgotten? We're Irish too."
"Saint Denis is a big city. We need manpower. There are a lot of Irish here—they're natural allies."
"Just like the Italian Mafia. Same blood sticks closer, doesn't it?"
"We don't have to push them away."
Davey studied him carefully.
"Hearing that from you surprises me, Mac. So… Callum put those words in your head, didn't he?"
Mac gave an awkward grin.
"Alright, you caught me. But he's not wrong."
In 1899, Irish gangs were the largest criminal force in the United States. Not just in the West—also in the East.
There were over ten million Irish Americans nationwide—around fourteen percent of the population. Nearly twenty percent of Irish men were directly or indirectly involved in gang activity.
Far beyond any other group.
As Davey considered this, a new possibility began to take shape in his mind.
And for the first time that evening—
He felt tempted.
...
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