At that moment Daniel leaned forward, voice firmer.
"You know what that means. He's not important to them. Not a top earner. Not a decision-maker. They won't move over one ghost living in their attic. I'm sure no heat will come for you."
The room didn't relax, but the tension bent—ever so slightly.
At that moment the Green Spiders' boss tilted his head. "He really in Aetherfield?"
Daniel held his gaze. "He lives like a ghost. Quiet, low-profile. But dangerous. Still… he's alone."
Then again the room fell into more uneasy silence.
The air was thick—too heavy for comfort. No one moved. No one blinked. The gang leaders sat frozen, their minds racing.
'Fifteen million dollars.'
It was enough to buy a small island, enough to pay off every debt they owed, enough to buy more loyalty, respect, silence—anything. But the name mafia wasn't something you joked with. It wasn't a label you just threw around.
