Chapter 12 - Chapter 12: Fragile Alliances

Ethan Cole stepped out of the penthouse, the city sprawling below him like a glittering trap. The encounter with Elena had lit a fire under him, but it also made one thing clear: taking down Lorenzo Donati and Vincent Moretti wouldn't be a solo job. Donati was a titan, a name whispered in fear, a shadow that stretched across coastlines and crushed anyone who dared step into his path. Moretti was his pawn in this twisted game. Ethan needed allies, fighters, informants, anyone with a grudge and a spine. His old network was gone, burned by Moretti's betrayal, but he wasn't starting from nothing. Not yet.The rain had stopped, leaving the streets slick and reflective as he made his way to the east side. His first stop was a back-alley gym called Iron Haven, a sweat-drenched pit where the city's roughest brawlers honed their skills. The clang of weights and the thud of fists on leather greeted him as he pushed through the door. Rico Vasquez was in the corner, a lean, scarred ex-enforcer who'd once run with Moretti before splitting off. He was pounding a heavy bag, his taped hands a blur.Ethan approached, resting a hand on the bag to stop it. "Rico. Need to talk."Rico stepped back, breathing hard, his dark eyes flicking over Ethan with suspicion. "Cole. Heard you got screwed at that warehouse. You look like a man with a death wish. What's up?""I'm putting something together," Ethan said, his voice low but firm. "A crew. People who can hit hard and keep their mouths shut. You've got no love for Moretti. I remember that. You with me?"Rico wiped his face with a towel, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You're still crazy, huh? I'd be in, maybe, if it was just Moretti. But I ain't dumb. Who're you really after? Spill it."Ethan met his gaze, unflinching. "Donati. Lorenzo Donati."The air in the gym shifted, like someone had flipped a switch. Rico's smirk dropped, his towel slipping from his hand. A guy lifting weights nearby froze mid-rep, then quickly turned away. "Donati?" Rico hissed, stepping closer so no one else could hear. "You're out of your damn mind, Cole. That's not a man. That's a machine. He wipes out entire crews for fun. I've seen it. Friends of mine, good guys, just gone. You're talking suicide.""I'm talking justice," Ethan shot back, his tone sharp. "He's propping Moretti up. I take him down, Moretti falls too. You want a shot at this city, Rico, this is it."Rico shook his head, backing off. "Nah, man. I like breathing too much. Donati's name alone gets you marked. I'm out. Stay the hell away from me." He grabbed his gear and bolted for the exit, leaving Ethan standing alone by the bag.Ethan's jaw clenched, but he didn't linger. His next stop was a pawn shop on 5th Street, a cluttered joint run by Marta Lopez, a chain-smoking fixer who knew every dirty secret in town. She'd helped Ethan with intel back in the day, a quiet ally when he was still Moretti's shadow. The bell jingled as he walked in, finding her behind the counter, arguing with a twitchy kid over a scratched-up chain."Beat it," Marta snapped at the kid, who scurried out. She turned to Ethan, lighting a cigarette. "Well, damn. Ethan Cole, alive and uglier than ever. What's the hustle now?""Need your help," Ethan said, leaning on the counter. "I'm building a team. You've got eyes everywhere, people who owe you. Point me to some muscle, Marta."She exhaled a cloud of smoke, her eyes narrowing. "A team? You're not still chasing Moretti, are you? Word's out he's got big friends now.""Bigger than you think," Ethan replied. "Donati's the target."Marta's cigarette slipped, burning her fingers. She cursed under her breath, stomping it out on the floor. "Lorenzo Donati?" she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. "You've lost it, Ethan. That's not a fight. That's a massacre waiting to happen. I knew guys who crossed him. One day they're breathing, next day they're ash. You can't touch that.""I can and I will," Ethan said, his gaze hard. "He's tied to Moretti, and Moretti's mine. You've got no stake in their game, Marta. Help me."She stared at him, then turned away, her hands shaking as she fumbled with a stack of receipts. "I like you, kid, but not enough to die for you. Donati's a ghost story I don't wanna live. Get out." Her voice cracked, and she didn't look back.Ethan left, the bell's chime mocking him as the door swung shut. Donati's name was proving more dangerous than a loaded gun. He needed someone desperate, someone with nothing left to lose. That's when Joey "Knives" Malone came to mind, a jittery smuggler who'd barely survived Moretti's wrath years ago. Joey was a coward, but he knew the streets.Ethan tracked him to a garage by the river, a cluttered mess of crates and oil stains. Joey was prying open a box of knockoff watches when Ethan stepped in, his shadow making the smuggler jump. "Cole!" Joey yelped, his hand darting for a switchblade. "Don't sneak up like that! You here to kill me?""Calm down," Ethan said, hands raised. "I'm not with Moretti. I need you. Your routes, your contacts. I'm putting together something big."Joey's eye twitched, his grip on the blade loosening. "Big, huh? You've got that psycho look again. Who're you after this time?""Donati," Ethan said, watching the color drain from Joey's face.The blade hit the concrete with a clink. "Lorenzo Donati?" Joey stammered, stumbling back into a crate. "You're insane! I almost died running from Moretti, and he's a nobody next to Donati! That guy's got the whole damn world on a leash. Cops, cartels, everything! You say his name, you're done!""I'm not done," Ethan growled, stepping closer. "He's backing Moretti, and I owe you one, Joey. I pulled you out of that fire. Pay me back."Joey's eyes widened, pure panic taking over. "No, no, no! I'd rather swim with sharks than touch Donati! You're a dead man, Cole. Stay away from me!" He shoved past a stack of boxes and ran out the back, his footsteps fading into the night.Ethan stood in the empty garage, the rejection stinging like salt in a wound. Three swings, three misses. Donati's shadow was a chokehold on the city, turning even the toughest into scared kids. His fists tightened, Lily's dog tag pressing into his skin. He didn't need them. Rico's fists, Marta's whispers, Joey's cowardice, none of it mattered. He'd do it alone if he had to. The docks were calling, and midnight was closing in.The river's edge came into view as Ethan approached the docks, the air thick with salt and rust. Cranes loomed like skeletons against the night sky, their shadows stretching over the water. He'd found the address from the penthouse note: a meeting at midnight with Donati. His watch read 11:47. Close enough. He crouched behind a stack of crates, his battered 9mm in hand, the weight of eight rounds a small comfort. The docks were quiet, too quiet, the kind of stillness that hid a storm.Footsteps echoed in the distance, sharp and deliberate. Ethan peeked out, his pulse quickening. A group of men emerged from the fog, their silhouettes dark against the flickering dock lights. One stood out: tall, broad-shouldered, a scar cutting across his cheek. Lorenzo Donati. The man himself, not a myth, not a ghost, but flesh and blood. Beside him was Moretti, his smirk visible even from here, and Carver, the traitor, trailing like a loyal dog.Ethan's grip tightened on the gun, his breath steady despite the fire in his chest. This was it, the heart of the beast laid bare. But before he could move, a hand clamped over his mouth, yanking him back into the shadows. He spun, elbow ready to strike, but froze. A familiar face stared back, eyes wide with urgency. "Don't," she whispered. It was Sarah Kane's partner from the warehouse days, a woman he'd thought was dead. "You shoot now, you're finished. There's too many."Ethan pulled free, his voice a harsh whisper. "They're right there. I can end this.""Not like this," she hissed, grabbing his arm. "Look."He followed her gaze. More figures were creeping in from the edges, rifles glinting in the moonlight. Donati's men, dozens of them, closing a net Ethan hadn't seen. His stomach dropped. This wasn't a meeting. It was a trap, and he'd walked right into it.