Chapter 11 Vince
Vince
I took a long drag from the cigarette, letting the smoke burn slow down the back of my throat as I adjusted the grip on the bat.
It was old, scuffed, taped at the handle, a Crow relic from a different kind of war. A reminder that not everything needed to be high-tech to make a fucking point.
“Three names, confirmed.” Luca said, he stood to my right, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the burner that had just finished ringing.
“Say them.”
After hearing them, I nodded once.
Syndicate betrayal. Three mid-tier affiliates playing dynasty deals behind our back, laced through offshore escrow and public contracts. A money loop. Just enough to escape most scans and almost not be noticed. But they used our name to do it. And worse, they didn’t ask permission.
“Could’ve been clean and come to us,” Luca said.
“They thought they were untouchable.”
“Still think that.”
“Then let’s change their mind.”
He flicked his lighter closed. It wasn’t lost on me that my brothers smoking habit had increased since he returned to Villain.
“Why aren’t we just killing them?” Luca asked.
I turned the bat once over my palm. “Pride. Ego.”
He gave me a look.
“They’ll live longer as a warning.”
Luca didn’t argue. The nightclub doors opened. A bouncer stepped aside the second he saw us. I tossed the cigarette, still burning, to the ground. Crushed it with my boot. And walked inside.
The crowd was thick but knew to part. Phones were on us the second we stepped inside. A couple Veil lenses flickered and logged our presence, already syncing it to public record.
Good.
Let them watch.
Three of them stood near the bar, mid-20s, polished suits, dynasty posture without the blood. The kind of men who’d only ever played at power until now. They turned when they saw us. Smirks. Arrogance
The one in the middle raised his drink slightly. “Didn’t expect the Crow Dynasty to send their enforcer for a negotiation.”
“This isn’t a negotiation,” I said.
His smile flickered.
The bat was still slung across my shoulder.
Another guy stepped forward. “What’re you gonna do with that, Crow?”
I looked at him. Twirled the bat once.
“Dental,” And then I spun.
The swing cracked across his jaw, unexpected, vicious, a clean fucking hit that sent him straight to the floor with his teeth clattering across the tile.
The club froze. Screams. Gasps. Phones recording. One of the others lunged. I didn’t let him land a hit.
Another swing.
Another drop.
The third backed into the bar. “You’re being filmed.”
“Fuck the public,” I grinned. “You think I care what the city films? Let them. Let every single asshole in this place record what it looks like when a Crow handles betrayal.”
He looked pale. So he fucking should. I stepped closer.
“All they’ll see is a Crow in his fucking city doing whatever the fuck he wants.” My voice dropped. “I let you live. Let this be the reminder. That I make the call when it ends.”
He didn’t speak. I tossed the bat at Luca. He caught it one-handed.
“Side-fucker,” I muttered.
Luca nodded and walked deeper into the club without another word. I turned back to the one still trying to get up, blood in his mouth.
He tried to speak. I knelt and grabbed his shirt collar.
“You’ve got one week. One. Get your books clean. Get your crew out of this district. Burn contracts. Or next time I bring guns, not warnings.”
He nodded frantically.
By the time I got up, Luca returned, blood had sprayed up the side of his neck.
“Feel better?” I asked.
He exhaled. “Yeah. I do.”
Sometimes it helped to deal with a problem our way. We both looked at the floor, two men unconscious, one trying to crawl. Phones still raised as people watched.
Luca tilted his head. “Want me to handle the footage?”
“No. Let it stay up.”
“Seriously?”
“Let them remember what happens when you cross our name and forget to kneel first.”
He nodded. We left the club like we owned it. Because we did. We were halfway to the car when Luca muttered, “Hold up.”
My hand went instinctively to my side.
Four men had just stepped out from the alley behind the club, broad, bulletproof vests under leather, tattoos that weren’t ours. The kind of walk that said they weren’t afraid of dying, which usually meant they didn’t expect to.
Syndicate enforcers. But not Crow.
I didn’t need Luca to confirm it. You could smell the arrogance. The lack of order. Merc contracts at best. Hired fists, maybe even reclaimed legacies trying to play big. Not all syndicates respect Crow authority.
The one in the middle stepped forward, hand resting on the grip of a pistol tucked into his waistband.
“Crow enforcement,” he said, like it was a joke.
“Is there a problem?”
“You just beat three men half to death in a neutral club.”
“They were Crow-marked. They betrayed a dynasty ledger.”
“Doesn’t give you jurisdiction in this quadrant.”
“Crow dynasty owns this quadrant,” I said flatly.
He smirked. “Not today.”
Luca shifted closer. His voice was low. “We need backup.”
“Message them”
He was already tapping his burner.
“And get the club cleared.” I added.
Luca glanced back. “Little late for that.”
Fuck. More movement behind the tinted club windows. Veil lights flickering. Faces pressed to the glass. Cameras still rolling.
Too many eyes.
“Try not to kill any bystanders,” I muttered. “Other than that—go loud.”
Luca nodded once. Just as the first gunshot rang out. I was already moving before it hit the wall. Two enforcers flanked right. One lifted a gun—too slow.
I pointed my gun the first shot went to the throat. Second to the knee. He dropped hard.
Bullets went flying. Screams from inside the club.
Somewhere behind me, Luca yelled something, and I saw the flash of his blade before a body collapsed to the ground.
Two more men advanced. I didn’t hesitate.
One to the chest. One to the face. Blood sprayed the sidewalk.
My mind switched off to the noise and I saw it like I was trained too.
Luca swept the knees out from another, then used the man’s own momentum to slam him headfirst into the wall.
“Status?”
“Three down.”
“Two more.”
“Corner left.”
The last enforcer ducked behind a dumpster, tactical, but panicked. He aimed once. My bullet shattered his wrist before he could pull.
He screamed. I didn’t let him finish. Silence fell just as fast as the gunfire had started.
Bodies littered the alley. A Veil drone buzzed faintly above us, recording every frame. It was a reminder we needed to buy that fucking platform. The club’s backlight made everything look cinematic. I exhaled slowly, staring at the fucking thing.
“Cleanup?” Luca asked, wiping blood from his cheek.
“Already on its way.”
I looked up at the drone. And smiled bitterly.
Tonight served its purpose.
Don’t cross the Crow Dynasty. Don’t mistake syndicate for sovereignty. We left the alley as sirens started approaching, police. But not with any power. We owned them.
The moment I sat in the back seat of the car, it hit me. I pulled my phone from my pocket. The footage was already climbing Veil’s trending feeds.
Those fucking drones. I hated veil. Clips and because my luck fucking sucked commentary. Zoomed-in shots of me with blood on my hands, gun in one fist.
A quote from the video already circulating: “Let that be the reminder—I can make it end when I choose.”
I never cared what people thought of me. But in this moment all I could think about was her.
Madeline.
Watching it. Alone. Or worse, surrounded by people spitting facts about me.
She’d see the version everyone else already feared. The side that ruled Villain and kept the bloodlines trembling. And I wondered, would she still call me adorable in a quiet voice when I was flustered?
Or would she look at this. And finally understand why everyone feared me. Fuck. Maybe even she would agree.
I stared at the screen a little longer, then turned it over in my hand and said nothing the rest of the drive until we reach our second stop. The night moved on, even if my mind was frozen on one thought.
Luca was scrolling through his burner, blood across his jaw. He didn’t bother cleaning it off. None of us did. There was no point pretending we were clean men.
“Bastion needs you at the port,” Luca said.
“How bad?”
He didn’t look up. “He said it’s bloody.”
Of course it was. Everything Bastion touched ended painted red.
“And Rome?” I asked.
Luca glanced at another message. “He’s in the tunnels. Said something feels off. Supply looks light. Thinks some of the bricks are wrong. Not Crow-made.”
I exhaled slowly. “So sabotage.” Tonight felt like it would never end.
“Maybe.” He pocketed the phone. “Pick a direction. The docks or the dirt.”
Before I could answer, my own phone started vibrating in my pocket, the kind of vibration that carried. I swore Nikolai had programmed my phone to react differently to his calls. I couldn’t prove it but the vibration was different. The screen lit up, name glowing like a warning.
Nik.
I sighed. “That didn’t take long.”
Luca smirked. “He’s probably already drafted the lecture.”
“Yeah.” I pressed accept. “Nik.”
“Are you alive?”
I blinked. “Pretty sure.”
“You sound like shit.”
“Occupational hazard.”
He didn’t laugh. That was the first sign this wasn’t about cleanup.
I could hear voices in the background, the subtle murmur of dynasty chatter, low music, the clink of glasses. Wherever he was, it wasn’t war room noise.
“You saw it,” I said.
“With the rest of the world,” Nik tone lowered in a way he didn’t want others to hear. “It was trending before dessert. You’ve gone viral, brother.”
“Congratulations to us.”
“Don’t joke.”
I rubbed my jaw. “You calling for damage control?”
“I’m calling because you’re my brother.” He paused. “And because that footage didn’t just make the rounds through the streets. It hit the dynasty channels, Vince. The fucking upper tables.”
“I figured.”
“No, I don’t think you did.” His voice dropped lower. “They watched it in gold rooms. With champagne. It wasn’t just Crows. It was Thorne, Vale, DuPont, Adams, every dynasty tied to the upper ledgers. They saw you drag a man by his throat through a club. Laughing.”
I didn’t respond. Because I did remember grinning.
Nik went quieter. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t have handled it. But, fuck, Vince, everyone saw it.”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Bullshit. You went feral in front of every dynasty feed. You think I don’t know what that means?”
I said nothing.
“Everyone saw it. The whole polished world you’ve spent your life pretending doesn’t exist — they all just got reminded that Vincent Crow is the man people whisper about when they tell their children to behave.”
I exhaled. “Then they’ll behave.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That wall. That flat tone. The one that means you’re about to shut the entire world out because you can’t stomach feeling anything.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m not shutting down.”
“You are.”
I glanced at Luca, who was pacing nearby, scanning the street.
“I’m not losing it, Nik.”
“I didn’t say you were losing it. I said you’re bleeding, and you don’t even realize it.”
I rubbed my thumb along the metal ring on my finger. The one from Madeline.
“Me and Luca are fine. Bastion’s handling the port. Rome’s in the tunnels. The dynasty’s intact.”
“I’m not asking about the dynasty. I’m asking if you’re intact.”
The words hit deeper than I wanted them to.
“I’ve got a grip on it,” I muttered.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Silence. That practiced silence he only gave me when he was worried I was too close to the edge.
I could picture him leaning back in one of those carved dynasty chairs, surrounded by people pretending not to eavesdrop. Eyes on him. On me.
“It helped me make a point,” Nik said finally.
“Glad to serve as dinner entertainment.”
“That’s not what I said.” His tone softened. “You’d tell me if you were slipping, right?”
I almost laughed. “Slipping?”
“If you were losing control. If it wasn’t just about the men in the club. If it was—” He exhaled. “—about her.”
My jaw tightened. Of course he knew about Madeline.
“I’m fine,”
“Vince—”
“Drop it, Nik.”
Another long practiced pause.
“Alright. I believe you.”
He didn’t. But I appreciated the mercy of him pretending he did.
“Rome said the bricks might be faulty,” I forced the conversation back to neutral ground.
“I know. I already dispatched a team.”
“I’ll head there after the port.”
“Good.”
Then Nik said softly, “You scare them, you know.”
I smirked. “They should be scared.”
He exhaled again, tired, older somehow. “Just, don’t let her see that version of you and think it’s all there is.”
That version. Like I could separate the parts of me anymore. I said nothing.
“Call me after Bastion. I need to hear your voice.” He added then ended the call.
I stood there for a moment, the phone still in my hand.
The noise of the world blurred around it — Luca’s low whistle.
All I could think of was Madeline’s face.
Her eyes fixed on a screen somewhere, seeing me the way everyone else did — a monster.
That I wasn’t the kind of man you fell asleep next to.
The thought was acid. It wouldn’t stop replaying in my fucking head.
That I was the kind of man the city feared. Maybe that was the cost of being what I was. But it didn’t feel like power right now.
It felt like loss.
“Nik good?”
I looked at Luca, repeating his question in my head again before I answered.
“He’s fine.”
“He’s worried about you.”
“He always is.”
Luca nodded once, glancing at closed bar behind us. “So, port first?”
“Yeah. Bastion’s waiting. And then Rome with the bricks that don’t look right.”
Luca smirked. “You think he’s finally seeing double?”
“Maybe.”
I moved toward the car. My hands were still sticky from the fight. “You hungry?”
He looked at me sideways. “You’re offering?”
“Yeah.”
“You never offer.”
“Fighting burns adrenaline.”
Luca’s grin flickered. “Then yeah. Let’s eat. We’ll need it for the port.”