𝓢𝓱𝓪𝓭𝓸𝔀...

𝗕𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗕𝗮𝗰𝗸...

Enjoy (4 chapters left)...

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Chicago PD...

"You guys have balls of platinum..."

The dimly lit room smelled of stale coffee and old leather. A map of the city sprawled across the large table in front of them, various points marked in red ink—Red Fang safe houses, their known operations, and possible weak spots. The tension in the air was palpable.

"You're telling me that in response to the shop getting shot down for probably the 500th time, you want to hit the biggest bases of operations to hurt the Red Fang?" Roy asked the three.

"They hurt multiple civilians and put Marcus' girls in therapy," Nick said, "We're biting back with fangs of our own..."

...

Collins smirked before clearing his throat and leaning forward, his voice steady but low. 

"Alright, gentlemen, let's get down to it. After the stunt the Red Fang pulled at Mikhail's shop, they made it clear they were not playing around anymore. We need to hit them hard, and we need to do it now."

Nick nodded, pushing off the wall. "They're getting reckless. That drive-by was meant to scare us, but it was also sloppy. They're stretched thin, probably getting heat from other gangs or even internally."

Mikhail, his arms folded across his broad chest, grunted. "They don't scare easy. Lucian West has them loyal to the core. If we're gonna make a move, we need to make sure it's a big one. Something they can't recover from."

Marcus studied the map, tapping his finger on one of the marked locations. "What about the docks? That's where they run most of their shipments. Drugs, guns—everything comes through there. We take that out, we cripple them financially."

Collins shook his head, frowning. "The docks are too heavily fortified. I've had my guys try to move in on that operation before, but West has too many eyes down there and on us. We need something they won't expect."

Nick leaned over the table, narrowing his eyes at the map. "What about their money? West is running an empire, and it's not just the muscle that keeps the Red Fang afloat—it's the cash. They've got a front somewhere. Some kind of financial hub where they wash all that dirty money. We hit that, and they lose a lifeline."

Mikhail nodded slowly, his gaze sharpening. "That could work. But finding it won't be easy. They don't just leave their bank books lying around."

Collins tapped his finger on the table, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

"Actually... we've got a lead on that," he said.

He pulled out a folder and tossed it onto the table. "One of our undercover guys heard whispers about a safe house in the Northside. A warehouse. Word is, it's where they store their cash before it gets cleaned and moved into the city's legitimate businesses. If we can hit that warehouse, we cut off their financial flow."

Marcus looked up, intrigued. "How reliable is this source?"

Collins leaned back in his chair. "Reliable enough. But there's a catch. The place is protected by some of West's top enforcers. If we're going in, we're going in hot. No half measures."

Nick grinned, his eyes gleaming. "I like the sound of that."

Mikhail, ever the voice of caution, raised a hand. "Wait. Before we start planning the fireworks, we need to be sure we can get in and out without getting slaughtered. How many enforcers are we talking about?"