Blood On The Streets

The Bratva's Prison

Marco had grown bruised from the punishing blows, but it was the psychological toll that tortured him most. He was stuck in this dark, dank cell, a physical reminder of his predicament of being trapped in between two worlds, unable to escape. The physical torture had ceased, at least for now, courtesy of Viktor's men, but the psychological torment remained.

Marco was alone in the dark for hours at a time, with his thoughts for company. These were the moments when memories of his life before all this would flood his mind — his time with the Romanos, his friendship with Luca, the quiet evenings he had once taken for granted. Now, that all felt far away.

He could hear Viktor's voice rising in the hallway, then the unmistakable clatter of boots on concrete. Marco had come to visit, and Viktor prepared himself.

The heavy door to his cell swung open, Viktor emerging in the threshold, his shadow stretched into an elongated dark circle. "You, Marco," he said, his voice dripping with disdain, "I've never understood why people like you think they can play both ways. You're either with us, or you are against us."

Marco's voice was hoarse, but he stood firm. "I'm with whoever I have to be."

Viktor stepped forward, narrowing his gaze. "We'll see how long that belief holds true. You haven't seen the pile of horseshit that's coming next."

Marco said nothing; he remained silent and endured. He couldn't afford to break. Not yet.

Sofia's Decision

Back at the Romanos' villa, Sofia found herself caught in a storm of her own. The silence in the car had only deepened in the few hours that they had been out here, and with each passing second, the urgency of Marco's situation weighed upon her heavier and heavier. Luca did the pacing thing with his hands in tight fists and furrowed brow.

"We can't wait no more," he said, his voice cutting. "Marco's number is up if we don't do something soon."

Sofia nodded, her eyes steely with determination. She knew Luca was right. Time was running out.

We need help, she said, her voice low but sure.

Luca glanced up at her, confusion in his eyes. "Help? From who?"

Sofia's head buzzed, and a name flashed in the streets of her head, like the one her past held in the vacant middle of a back alley. Elena Russo. She was someone Sofia had known from when she worked years ago, back when she had still been in law enforcement, back before the Romanos and before everything had changed.

Elena was a person who had mastered the shadows, someone who could help them subvert Viktor's compound and retrieve Marco.

"You're serious?" Luca asked, incredulous. "Elena Russo? After all these years?"

Sofia's face hardened. "She owes me, Luca. And at this moment, I need that favor. No one else can get us that close to Viktor's compound without getting spotted."

Luca thought about it for a second and nodded halfheartedly. "Alright. But if this goes wrong, we'll be in worse trouble than we're already in."

Sofia met his gaze. "I know the risks. But we don't have a choice."

The Deal with Elena

Some time later that night, Sofia sat opposite Elena Russo in a small, out-of-the-way café just outside Trento. Although the years since they had last seen each other had gone by, the sharpness between them hadn't lost its edge. They fell silent, words lodged somewhere between them, thick and heavy with unspoken feelings and unresolved histories.

She took a sip of her coffee before continuing. "You have some nerve coming here, Sofia."

"I'm here for a reason," Sofia responded, her tone chilling but steady. "I need your help."

Elena tilted her head back in her chair, one eyebrow raised. "I know what you're going to ask. And I don't know that I want to assist you. You know the rules, Sofia. You've made your bed, and now you have to lie in it.'

Sofia's eyes glinted with rage. "This isn't about me, Elena. This is about Marco. He's in Viktor's clutches, and if we don't do something now, he's going to be dead by morning. I'm asking you to help me free him."

Elena's demeanor changed as the iciness of her expression thawed a bit. "I cannot trust you anymore, Sofia. You've passed too many boundaries. But... I owe you. And Marco, he was always loyal to you."

Sofia's heart skipped a beat. "You'll help?"

Elena seemed to hesitate, her eyes far away. "Fine. But it's not out of friendship that I'm doing this. I'm doing it because you owe me and because I don't want Viktor to win. I'll arrange the escape, but you'll have to act fast. And you will owe me more than you realize."

Sofia nodded, thankful for Elena's assistance but knowing the price she would have to pay. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Viktor's Internal Struggles

Viktor oblivious to his dwindling power over the Bratva. His once irrevocable rightness was start to falter, rumbles of potential betrayal getting louder. It was a proposal brought to him by one of his most trusted lieutenants, Ivan.

"Viktor," Ivan said, in a low voice, "you've lost your grip. The Romanos are getting a little too powerful for my taste, and they are not the only threat. We have a new challenger, someone who has been working behind the scenes against us. We need to act."

Viktor squinted as he listened to them. "Who?"

"I don't know yet," Ivan said, "but I have my suspicions. And if we don't take care of them now, they'll take care of us."

The pressures of his position weighing him down, Viktor walked the floor. "I'll handle it. You gather what you can. If there's a threat out there, we will take care of it before it becomes a problem.'

Viktor, Ivan didn't give a rag and hook, and left. His hold on Trento was slipping, and he knew it. But there was no going back at this point.

The Quiet Before the Storm

When the Romanos were getting ready to move, a tension crackled in the air. The stakes had never been higher and the risks had never been greater. Marco's life was at stake, and if they didn't move quickly, they could lose it all.

But as Sofia and Luca's plans came together, something darker loomed. Elena's assistance was invaluable, but at what cost remained unknown. And Viktor, broken as he was, was still formidable.

The war was far from over. In reality, it had only just begun.