EPISODE FOUR
EDDIE ERIC'S HOTEL
The room glowed with a soft, amber light, shadows dancing lazily along the walls. Their bodies moved together, slow and close, the silence broken only by her quiet whispers. His fingers traced the outline of her face, gentle and searching.
She pulled away, her voice low but firm.
"That's enough, Eric."
"I thought you wanted to clear your head?" he asked, his breath still heavy.
"I did," she said, hesitating. "But this… this isn't right. If my dad finds out, I'm screwed."
Eric's expression shifted. His hand closed around her arm—too tight.
"Eric, stop. You're hurting me."
But he didn't let go. His grip grew stronger, locking her wrists in place.
And then—
A gunshot ripped through the air.
Eric collapsed to the floor, lifeless. Cindy's eyes widened, frozen in shock as she stared at the person holding the gun.
---
RING RING
"Hello?"
"Hey, hero of Virginia," the voice crackled through. "Get your ass to Chinatown if you want Don Emilio's daughter to stay alive."
Ethan's eyes narrowed.
"You son of a—"
"You've got ten minutes. You're nearby, but don't think it'll be easy. I called a hit on you. Let's see how smart you really are."
"Rezaki, if you—"
Click. The line went dead.
Ethan hurled the phone at the wall.
"Fuck!"
Suddenly, four blacked-out vehicles appeared. He leapt onto a nearby motorcycle and tore down the street, bullets trailing behind him like fireflies. But Ethan kept going, weaving through traffic like a madman.
Just as he neared the entrance of Chinatown—
A tire blew.
The cars backed off, watching him struggle. A ping vibrated on his tracking device, highlighting a new destination.
A voice called from the shadows.
"Ethan. Welcome."
He turned toward it.
"You called me Rezaki on the phone," Ethan growled.
"Please. I'm not a Montenegro. You've entered Joseans league now."
Rodriguez stepped forward, laughing like a villain in a bad play.
"That's not funny. Where's Julian?"
"Easy now. Let's talk business before I hand over the chicken."
Ethan's fists clenched. Rodriguez gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder.
"Relax. I know this isn't easy." He leaned in and whispered near Ethan's ear. "But I think it's about to get worse."
"You bastard."
Ethan grabbed his shirt.
"Go on, hit me. See what happens. She dies, and you become a fugitive. Don't be stupid."
A fist landed on Ethan before he could move, knocking him down.
Rodriguez stood over him.
"Josean's Wine Company is dead. Predator Brands took everything. Now you're going to call off that event, you know, the one that's bringing Chiniva and those other fat-wallets together.
You don't? I'll burn this whole place to the ground. With you and Julian inside."
Ethan gasped for air, staring back at him in fury.
---
A lady walked up to the bar, ordered three shots of hot gin, and sat down.
"I'll see you," she muttered, pouring the drink into a glass. Her voice wavered. Just then, a man sat next to her. "Why'd you do it?" She Questioned.
He didn't answer. Just stared.
She scoffed. "You know what? Maybe I shouldn't waste my damn time."
She drew her gun and pointed it at him.
"Go on," he said quietly. "Shoot me. I'm done anyway."
She hesitated. "Why did you…?"
"What was I supposed to do?" he snapped. "Eric loses control when he's angry. I didn't want him to hurt you."
Tears spilled down her cheeks. She slowly lowered the gun.
"I know, Cindy. I'm sorry. I love you. I just—I can't stand seeing you in pain."
He turned and walked out into the night, leaving her alone in silence.
Ping. A message lit up her phone:
"Come home now or miss it forever."
She muttered through clenched teeth, "The bastard."
Later, she parked in front of the bungalow and sat down at the dinner table with her father.
"So," he said slowly, eyes locked on hers, "I hear you've been meeting with certain men."
She didn't answer.
"I guess it's true, then."
Cindy stood up. "I lost it, Dad."
"No. Not yet. You still need it," he said, gently. "Sit down. Eat while you can."
But she kept walking.
"You won't disrespect your father," he called out.
She turned back, her voice shaking with anger.
"I don't give a damn anymore. You never trusted your own advisor—why would you trust me? What's the point?"
Her eyes landed on a newspaper on the table.
"If Ethan ever finds out everything you've done, maybe he'll finally walk away."
She stormed out.
Don Emilio sank into the couch, lost in his thoughts, haunted by what was coming next.