When the final line of defense collapsed, the Dasco Gang lost its last shield.
They were wiped out by the swarming members of the Spades Gang.
Mosey was dragged in front of Ryden, half-dead.
Ryden didn't say a word.
He only patted his friend's shoulder.
Then he turned and went to give Marlos instructions.
A gunshot rang out behind him.
Mosey screamed.
And that was the end.
Brad's soul, wherever it was, could finally rest.
His great revenge had been completed.
While the Spades Gang and the Dasco Gang were locked in bloody conflict, the other two gangs quickly caught wind of it.
They moved immediately.
In times like this, anyone who didn't seize territory was a fool.
Morality meant nothing.
Only the biggest fist mattered.
The Spades Gang didn't hesitate.
They swiftly occupied the relatively prosperous 49th Street.
This was their first step out of the slums.
Their first step into the city proper.
From this moment on, they stood on equal footing with the Tewa and Rens gangs.
With Black members as their core and strong internal solidarity, they showed no mercy.
Any outsiders trying to take advantage of the chaos were shot on sight.
The territory was consolidated quickly.
When the fighting ended, the police arrived.
Sera did not appear.
She stayed hidden in the back.
Under normal circumstances, she would have taken the lead.
But now, she followed her brother's instructions and kept a low profile.
In any case, the credit wouldn't disappear.
Ryden and Terrence had already withdrawn.
The cleanup was left to professionals like Marlos, Todd, and Cajak.
Some people sighed at the fall of a gang that once ruled the slums.
But it was fleeting.
In truth, the Dasco Gang had only risen two years ago.
Gangs were like waves.
One pushed another.
If you weren't strong enough, you died on the beach.
Back home, Ryden told Aunt Laura the news.
When she learned that her husband's revenge had been fulfilled-and that her son had returned safely-this usually strong woman finally broke down.
She cried hard.
But it was relief, not despair.
Sherry cried too.
But hers was excitement.
She wrapped her arms tightly around Ryden's waist.
"Brother Ryden, I knew you could do it! You're amazing! I want to be someone like you when I grow up!"
"Hahaha, alright," Ryden said. "But you have to let go. If you squeeze any harder, I'm going to suffocate."
"Let's eat and celebrate."
He paused.
"Still, we need to be careful. There might be remnants. Even if they don't know who did it, caution is necessary."
"Here."
He handed Sherry a modified pistol.
"For self-defense."
It was small and delicate, perfect for concealment.
Its power wasn't lacking.
It even had a slight magnetic boost.
Aunt Laura opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
She didn't want her daughter holding a gun.
But for safety, she chose to trust Ryden.
"Alright, Sherry," she said softly. "Come help me cook something good for your brother and the others."
"You two rest at home."
After calming down, Terrence suddenly remembered something.
He bolted for the bathroom and threw up.
A classic rookie reaction.
Most people felt discomfort after killing for the first time.
Ryden wasn't much better.
He felt nauseous too.
It was like drinking.
Throw up enough times, and you get used to it.
No big deal.
Sitting in the living room, Ryden took out pen and paper.
He began recording tonight's data.
Sometimes he really missed phones and laptops.
Being able to record everything instantly.
He reviewed the operation.
Learn from mistakes.
Do better next time.
Without a cheat, he had to suffer more.
Work harder.
Be more diligent.
Without realizing it, twenty minutes passed.
The rich aroma of beef dragged him back to reality.
"Alright," Aunt Laura said cheerfully. "Fresh steak, mashed potatoes, fruit salad."
"Enjoy, my little hero."
She set the dishes down.
Then kissed Ryden on the forehead.
Full of an elder's pride and joy.
Sherry, the little Black Pearl, also leaned in and kissed his cheek before sitting down happily.
Unless it was a holiday, they never ate like this.
She was starving for it.
Ryden quietly slipped several hundred-dollar Franklins into Sherry's hand.
He gestured toward Aunt Laura, who had gone to check on Terrence.
"This is from your big brother."
"Buy more food. Don't go hungry."
"Eat well, grow up fast, and help me out someday. Okay?"
Sherry's face turned red.
She shyly accepted the money.
Staring at the golden bills, her heart felt like it was melting.
Deep down, she made a silent promise.
Terrence came back after vomiting.
Seeing the food, he immediately dug in like a storm.
He was starving.
With the knot in his heart untied and his father's revenge complete, he finally ate without restraint.
At some point, Aunt Laura brought out a bottle of wine.
She poured glasses for Terrence and Ryden.
"Alright, my two little heroes," she said gently. "I toast to you."
"In the future, take care of yourselves."
"Don't let your family worry."
"Yes, Mom," Terrence replied, draining his glass in one gulp, his face flushing.
Ryden followed suit.
Out of respect.
And besides-
Aunt Laura's figure was... impressive.
Any man would glance a few extra times.
But from now on-
She was a widow.
They drank.
They ate.
How much wine?
How much meat?
No one knew.
Even Sherry, who didn't drink, went straight to bed.
Ryden carried the completely drunk Terrence to his room.
Heavy.
Really heavy.
Like a muscular little Black pig.
Ryden was supposed to go home.
But seeing Aunt Laura-her face flushed, clearly tipsy-
He somehow sat back down.
More wine.
More meat.
This virtuous, kind elder.
Someone who had taken care of him and his sister since childhood.
Whose house they ate at countless times.
Whom his mother trusted, even leaving money for and instructing Ryden to obey.
As they drank-
Ryden lost consciousness.
When he woke up the next morning, his legs felt uncomfortable again.
His eyes widened.
Could it be...?
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