Las Vegas—inside the private hospital where Sparazza is being treated. Buddy has been moved into an isolation ward, lying right beside Sparazza. The father and son, who look nothing alike, are now both hovering on the edge of death.
The doctor is making final preparations before surgery—Buddy's body, already wrecked by alcohol and excess and now full of sedatives, has to go through a full round of examinations and "maintenance" to make sure his heart stays stable before they can even think about putting him on the table.
Out in the corridor, Brian's boss stands with the surgeon, discussing Sparazza's condition, completely unaware that a very angry young man is marching straight toward him. Only when Brian closes in—radiating pure, unfiltered rage—does the boss finally turn around, surprise flashing across his face.
"What are you doing here? Didn't I tell you to go back to New York?"
"I need an explanation."
"An explanation? I told you I'd explain when we get back. Don't interfere with my work right now."
"I want it now."
Brian's expression grows calmer by the second, which somehow makes him even more terrifying. The anger is still there—it's just locked behind something tighter, colder. His boss feels a flicker of unease but can't quite figure out why this kid is so furious.
Because a few unfamiliar colleagues died? Or because the truth was hidden?
The mission to take in Buddy is already done—what more does he want?
"Brian, I think you've started believing you're actually Mafia. Didn't you learn anything? In a family, you follow the boss's orders—no questions asked. Whatever Dove says, you do it. No objections."
If he tells you to kill, you kill—even if your family's dying in a hospital bed, you drop everything and follow orders. That's the Mafia. Cold. Ruthless.
The boss's tone turns icy. "You can follow Mafia rules just fine, but now you suddenly don't care about FBI rules?"
"Dove has never asked me to kill anyone. He's not like the others—and he's definitely not like you. He doesn't force his people into things they can't handle."
"Heh." The boss sneers. "That's only because you've never had to get your hands dirty. You really think Dove is some kind of saint? Count how many people have died because of him. Even Satan would blink at that number."
Still, curiosity creeps into his expression.
"That's exactly what I don't understand. In the Mafia, killing is the fastest way to earn trust. Every made man has to spill blood—initiation, blood oath, the whole deal."
He leans in slightly.
"So how did you do it, Brian? How did you earn Luca the Dove of Peace's trust without killing anyone?"
According to everything the FBI knows, the Dove is paranoid—like a wolf. The slightest movement and he's already alert, already listening.
Out of all the bosses in New York, he holds the most power—yet has the fewest core subordinates. He prefers layers: people controlling people, cities run through intermediaries, while he stays buried in the deepest shadows.
Almost no one gets close to him.
But Brian did.
No killing, barely any crime, and yet—he got close. Close enough to drive for him, which, frankly, isn't a privilege handed out like free candy.
Brian stares at his boss, expression turning strange. He takes a step back and shakes his head.
"Do you remember what you told me when I first got to New York? You said I was going undercover—not becoming one of them. You said I wouldn't lose my principles. That I mattered more than the mission."
His voice tightens.
"So what are you doing now?"
The boss falls silent for a moment. Three years is a long time—long enough for ideals to rot a little around the edges.
Denham didn't rise through the ranks because he stayed clean. No—he adapted. You either get used to the ugliness… or you learn to enjoy it.
"I did say that," the boss admits with a nod. "And I'm keeping my promise. I'm pulling you out before it's too late. Brian, you're in too deep—I'm helping you get out."
"In too deep?" Brian steps closer until their chests nearly touch. "You think I don't know that? You think I need you to remind me?"
His voice sharpens.
"I can tell you this—I never lost my principles while I was with Dove."
"But you lost the rules." The boss shakes his head. "You forgot what an undercover agent is supposed to do. The intelligence I needed—you never delivered. You're too idealistic, Brian. You follow your feelings, not your duty."
He pauses, then adds quietly,
"You protected Dove. You know it, and so do I."
Brian can't deny it. He's always been that kind of person—easily swayed by loyalty, by friendship. Bonds matter more to him than paperwork ever will.
If the Dove were captured, and the Lucchese family asked him to ram a prison van off the road…
Yeah. He'd probably do it.
He's a damn good driver. And he doesn't want to see that man die.
"You can go now." The boss waves him off, but before he can turn—
Click.
The sound of a safety being released cuts through the air.
A gun presses against his back.
"What are you doing, Agent Brian?!"
"My life's already wrecked." Brian lets out a dry, self-mocking laugh. "The Dove knows I'm in Vegas. There's no going back to the club."
He pushes the man forward, gun steady.
"Before I leave, I want the truth. All of it. Why did my colleagues die like that? Why was I dragged into this mess?"
"I can't discuss this right now."
"You're going to." Brian slams the gun harder against him. "You don't get a choice."
They step into the ICU. Through the glass, Brian sees Buddy—and beside him, Sparazza.
Side by side.
Wrong. Completely wrong.
Shouldn't Buddy be somewhere safe?
Brian stares, frozen.
"Now talk."
The boss glances at the gun, hesitates… then exhales.
"They're father and son."
And just like that, everything clicks into place.
A failed undercover mission decades ago. A dead identity. A stolen life.
Sparazza… isn't Sparazza.
The agent didn't die. He killed the real Sparazza, took his face, his voice, his life—became him.
Brian's head spins.
"And the surgery?"
"A heart transplant."
"You're going to kill Buddy to save him?"
"No. Buddy is already 'dead.' He died of heart failure during the hotel chaos. The hospital couldn't save him—that's the official story. When his body gets incinerated, no one will ask where the heart went."
The boss hands over the documents.
"This operation started during World War II. Decades of intelligence—do you understand the value? With it, we can crush the Mafia Commission. Every family. Top to bottom."
"So you tore up the deal with Buddy?"
"Sparazza needs his heart."
"You're saving a monster."
"No," the boss corrects him calmly. "I'm saving Heller."
Brian snaps.
"Then why didn't you tell us? You let all those agents die!"
"We needed the situation to unfold naturally."
"Fuck you!" Brian slams him against the wall. "You really think he'll cooperate? You think after all this, he'll just hand over everything?"
"…Maybe. But we have to try."
"With our lives?" Brian's voice cracks. "You're gambling lives just to fix a relic?"
He doesn't even recognize this man anymore. Cold. Calculated.
Even the Dove wouldn't throw his own people away like that.
And if Sparazza flips… the damage won't stop at one family. It'll reach everyone—including the Dove.
Brian feels something twist painfully in his chest.
In the end, he succeeded as an undercover agent… and still managed to hurt the one person he didn't want to.
The boss pats his shoulder.
"Look at the bright side. If Luca the Dove of Peace falls, you're free. No more undercover work. You can go back to normal life—take a drive down Sunset Boulevard, maybe?"
Brian stares ahead, dazed.
Take down the entire Mafia… that should feel like a victory.
So why does it feel like losing everything?
Only now, standing at this crossroads, does he finally understand—he doesn't want them to disappear. Not the club. Not the people. Not the life he built.
Still, a last shred of hope clings on.
"What if it fails? What if 'Sparazza' doesn't cooperate? What if he survives and keeps doing what he's been doing?"
"Then someone takes the fall."
The boss's voice sounds distant now. He's already stepping back—toward the door, toward safety, surrounded by agents.
"Brian," he says with a faint smile, "you want to protect Dove? Then pray Sparazza cooperates. Because if Dove survives… you won't."
Brian's face drains of color.
If the Dove lives… he dies?
No. No—there has to be another way.
Seeing him unravel, the boss just shakes his head, almost amused.
Naive. Impulsive.
He takes another step back, ready to leave.
And then—
A pair of hands slams into his back and shoves him forward into the room.
He stiffens, turning his head inch by inch—
—and meets Luca's dark, unreadable eyes.
"No one leaves this place today…" Luca says quietly, voice like a closing door,
"…unless I say so."
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TN: We hit the milestones last week, so here are 2 bonus chapters for today! Also, the original story ends at Chapter 242, plus one final announcement from the author.
Thanks to Wilnet Duverne for becoming my P Knight, my cats eat a lovely fish tonight
If you guys like this story, Support me on P Site/OrbisTranslate, for three bucks you got 15 advance chapters