"Speak up, I'm busy!"
Martin Madrazo's voice was like a serrated blade. He had zero patience for subordinates, especially when he was standing in a ruined driveway in Rockford Hills.
"Boss, the South Side crews are acting up again," the voice on the phone was frantic, words tripping over each other.
Madrazo didn't blink. "What's that got to do with me? Those losers left the Syndicate months ago."
"Yeah, but they're still using the Madrazo name. Now the Families from Chamberlain Hills are at our door demanding an explanation. They think we're moving on their turf."
Madrazo's expression twisted, his features sharpening into a mask of pure malice. "Tell the Families those punks are on their own. I'll settle the bill when I get back. Just hold the line."
He hung up and turned his gaze back to Jax, then to Zona. The violence in his eyes softened into a cold, professional curiosity.
"Kid, you've got hands," Madrazo said, looking at the unconscious thugs Jax had leveled. "How about you come work for me? Following a fossil like Michael... it's a waste of potential. You won't see the real money."
Jax thought back to the game mechanics—the measly $11,550 "hit" bonuses and Madrazo's notorious reputation for being a cheapskate who treated everyone like dirt. He didn't even have to think about it.
"I'll pass," Jax said, shaking his head.
Madrazo didn't seem insulted. He just shrugged, as if Jax had turned down a flyer for a car wash. He turned his attention back to Michael, who was still looking at the ground as if searching for his dignity.
"Fine. For Zona's sake, I won't skin you today," Madrazo kicked one of his recovering thugs in the ribs. "Get up! You've embarrassed me enough for one afternoon."
The thugs scrambled to their feet, nursing bruised ribs and egos. Madrazo looked Michael dead in the eye. "You know how this works, Mike. You break it, you pay for it. Rebuilding that villa... it's going to be about two and a half million. Give or take."
"I understand," Michael said, his voice hollow.
"Good. When the wire clears, I'll send you a gift. Consider it a 'welcome back' present." Madrazo spread his arms, glancing at Zona. "Niece, give my regards to your father. Now, come move your car. You're blocking the exit."
"Coming, Uncle!" Zona called out, running toward the Banshee.
As the cartel SUV pulled away, Michael slumped down onto his front steps, burying his face in his hands. The weight of a two-million-dollar debt sat on his shoulders like a mountain of lead.
"Hey, man," Franklin said, sitting down next to him and offering a supportive hand. "You okay?"
"I'm guessing he's never been better," Jax joked, leaning against the stone pillar. His palm was still stinging from catching the bat, a dull throb that reminded him he was still human.
Michael took a long, jagged breath and looked up. The despair was gone, replaced by a strange, electric light in his eyes. "I can't deny that. I guess the retirement party is officially over."
He looked at the sprawling, expensive cage behind him. "You two interested in a job? A real one?"
Jax smiled. He knew what was coming. The beast inside Michael De Santa had been caged by family and therapy for nine years. Now, Madrazo had just handed him the key.
"I'm in over my head in debt," Michael muttered, cracking his neck. "I hope I don't end up as a beggar on Strawberry Avenue. I'm going to see an old friend tomorrow—Lester. Wait for my call."
He pushed open the front door, pausing to look back at Jax with a tired smirk. "Nice girlfriend, kid. Try to keep her out of the crossfire."
Jax froze. "Girlfriend? Mike, I've been in town for two weeks. I don't—"
But the door was already shut.
"How did it go?" Zona asked, walking back up the driveway after moving the Banshee.
Jax looked at her, realizing the misunderstanding had already set in. "It's settled. I need to head home and feed my pets."
"Pets?" Zona's eyes lit up with a terrifying, high-society enthusiasm. "You have animals? Like, little ones?"
She stepped closer, the scent of her jasmine perfume mixing with the exhaust of the departing cars. Jax gently put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back an inch.
"Not many. Three. And 'little' is a relative term."
"Can I see them?"
"Sure. If you're not afraid of getting bit."
Behind them, Franklin was watching the interaction with a look of profound realization. Pets, he thought. Maybe that's what I'm missing. If I get a dog, maybe Tanisha will stop calling me a 'low-life banger' and actually take me seriously.
Jax and Zona walked toward the car, blissfully unaware of Franklin's plan to adopt a Rottweiler.
"Nice girlfriend, Jax!" Franklin shouted as he hopped into his own car.
"Thanks for the compliment!" Zona chirped back before Jax could correct him. She slid into the passenger seat, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Jax got behind the wheel, his brow furrowed. "Why didn't you tell him the truth?"
Zona rolled her eyes. "Because my uncle's people are probably still watching. If they think we're together, they leave you alone. If they find out you're just some guy I met at a club, you're just a target with a bruised hand. Besides..." she looked at him, her smile fading into something softer. "It's safer for your 'Uncle Michael' if we play along."
Jax couldn't argue with that. He pulled the Banshee onto the highway, heading back toward his apartment. The streetlights of Los Santos were flicking on, casting long, neon shadows across the pavement.
Despite the "win," a cold sense of foreboding settled in Jax's chest. The city felt different tonight. Like it was holding its breath.