The Mafia Empire

But what about a gang member?

Without any faith to anchor the soul, death becomes an dless abyss of fear.

The man felt the cold touch of metal against his forehead, and his expression shifted. At first, fear flickered across his face, but th he regained his composure.

He didn't believe this kid standing before him could actually pull the trigger. After all, he was one of Wood the Woodsman's m. Wood's reputation and influce in Ternell City wer't something just anyone would dare to cross. So instead of fear, a trace of arrogance appeared on his face. "If you've got the guts, go ahead and—"

Julian's finger squeezed the trigger. The bullet shot out of the barrel at 350 meters per second, smashing through the man's skull. As it met resistance, the hollow point of the bullet expanded, the rear d peeling back under the intse pressure. As it tore through brain tissue, the metal edges of the bullet fully unfurled, spinning and ripping through the back of his head with ease.

With a sicking thud, a fine mist of blood and brain matter sprayed into the air, splattering in red and fragmts. The man's body jerked back as his head snapped backward, and th he collapsed forward, falling at Julian's feet.

A fist-sized hole had blown op the back of his head, and thick, warm blood still steamed in the cool night air. The other two m, who had initially maintained some semblance of calm, now looked horrified.

This kid must be insane, right?

We're Wood's m! Doesn't he fear Wood's retribution?—wait, he doesn't ev know who we are!

The two remaining captives exchanged glances, their faces twisting in disbelief. They had overestimated their own importance. Not everyone needed to know who they were—just as not everyone in Ternell City knew who Julian was.

Julian glanced down at the blood that had splattered on his sleep pants. He crouched down, wiped some off with his finger, and casually smeared it onto the dead man's shoulder, muttering something to himself.

He th moved on to the second captive, pressing the gun against the man's forehead just as he had with the first. "See, he thought I wouldn't shoot. I got so scared, my hand shook. Now, can you tell me who st you, why you were following my wagons, and what you were planning to do?" Julian raised a finger to his lips. "Shh... take your time.

Think carefully before you answer. I wouldn't want my hand to shake again."

Cold sweat broke out on the man's forehead, despite the chill of autumn. His body began to tremble. It was strange how people could only truly experice deep, complex emotions wh they witnessed death firsthand.

After a tse t seconds, Julian nodded. "So? Have you thought about it?"

"I... I have. We're Wood's m..." the man stammered.

All eyes shifted to the third man, the last one remaining. The second captive, the one with the gun to his head, turned in disbelief toward his usually loyal comrade. Had he really just rushed to answer in a life-or-death situation?

A second later, the gun fired, and the second man fell, his expression froz in shock and restmt. Julian had blown a hole in his head, just like the first. Julian figured that in the next life, if there was one, the man might learn to be a bit smarter.

Of course, there was no restmt or bitterness left in the man's body. As soon as the bullet passed through his skull, he no longer had the luxury to think or feel.

After killing the second man, Julian tucked the gun away and turned to the third. "Congratulations, you've learned to answer quickly. Can I ask your name?"

"Johnny!" The man quickly replied. "Sir, my name is Johnny, and I'm—"

Julian placed a finger on Johnny's lips, looking at him seriously. "I ask, you answer."

Johnny nodded rapidly, feeling like he was on the verge of madness. At that critical momt, he had the sudd urge to pee, but he didn't dare mtion it. He couldn't stop himself, though, and soon felt the hot wetness streaming down his leg, cooling in the autumn wind.

"Question one: Who is Wood?"

Swallowing hard, Johnny quickly answered, "Wood is our boss. They call him Wood the Woodsman. He controls all the bootlegging and smuggling operations in Ternell, along with two others. They've got a stranglehold on the tire high proof bootleg market in the city."

"Very good. That was detailed, and I'm pleased. Here's a reward—I think you'll appreciate it." Julian took out a cigarette, placed it in Johnny's mouth, and lit it with a kerose lighter. "Now, for the second question: Who made these rules?"

After a few drags on the cigarette, Johnny began to calm down. His mind cleared, and he quickly responded, "It was Ernst's idea. He's backed by the mayor and a few big shots. Wood and Carrell—that's the other guy—don't want to go against Ernst, so they agreed to the rules he set."

"Third question: What were you planning to do tonight?" Julian's hand lightly patted Johnny's cheek, causing him to flinch. "I keep my promises, and look—there's no one here but you. No one will know it was you who told."

Moved by Julian's reassurance, Johnny spilled everything.

Wood had ordered them to track Graf, find out where his base of operations was, and assess how many people were there. Once they had that information, they planned to return in the middle of the night to kill off anyone unimportant and capture Graf, along with the person sleeping in the same room as the money.

Wood believed that whoever was with the money—whether it was Graf's boss or someone else—would have valuable information. With nearly t thousand dollars at stake, no one would trust such a sum to Graf alone.

Once they found the higher ups, everything would fall into place. Whether Wood dealt with them personally or hired someone else to, it wouldn't be a big deal for the three bootlegging bosses.

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