The office was a cold shell in an old North End building, the new base of operations for Royal Private Security. The air was saturated with plaster dust and the dull noise of workers remodeling the lower floors.

Lena Rossi and Cassandra sat calmly on rickety armchairs across from a small metal desk. Behind them, about twenty armed Royal men, silent and ready, formed a wall of loyalty.

Facing them was Aaron Jenkins, the Olympus manager who had led the attack on Alfred's Pizzeria. Behind Jenkins, there were only six armed guards, though their arrogance made them seem like sixty.

The conversation began like a business formality, though the atmosphere was as thick as smoke.

"Thank you for coming, ladies," Aaron said, leaning on the desk with a mocking smile. "Although the hospitality of your new headquarters leaves much to be desired."

"Save the sarcasm, Jenkins," Lena said, her voice low and steely. "Get straight to the point. We are very busy managing the territory you call 'yours'."

Aaron straightened up, his expression turning cold and official.

"The leader of Olympus," Aaron began, using a reverent tone, "is very, very upset. He believes some small fish are trying to take a piece of his prey. And he doesn't believe in charity."

Aaron paused, looking Lena and Cassandra up and down as if assessing two worthless objects.

"We will consider not destroying all of you if you hand over 15% of all the North End, effective tomorrow, and immediately cease all activity in the port area. Send that message to your boss, the rat you have hidden away."

Aaron's arrogance was palpable. Believing that Ethan was still free and running the organization, he treated them as mere messengers.

Cassandra laughed, a rough sound. "Fifteen percent? And who do you think you're talking to, Aaron? The errand girl?"

"The boss's envoys," Aaron replied dismissively. "I know you have a cunning leader; he proved it in the past. But your boss must understand that this is our territory, and if he keeps playing games, Olympus will crush him. Give him our message: either he pays the toll, or this gets personal."

Lena slowly nodded, ignoring the direct threat. "Fine. Let's talk 'personal.' Let's talk about Alfred's Pizzeria. That was a line you crossed."

"The pizzeria?" Aaron shrugged with disinterest. "That area belongs to us too. A few dead customers, so what? If you want to play in the major leagues, you have to accept the rules, darling. Tell your clients to move on."

"You don't leave us many options," Cassandra said, her hand slowly sliding toward the hilt of her pistol.

"You have no options," Aaron corrected, forcing a smile. "The only option is how fast you deliver the message to your boss so he surrenders."

"I already told you," Lena spat out, standing up abruptly. "We are not his messengers. We are the ones sitting at your table."

The tension exploded. Aaron drew his pistol, and his six guards did the same. Simultaneously, the twenty Royal men behind Lena and Cassandra raised their weapons, pointing directly at Jenkins.

The silence was deafening. Aaron's finger twitched on the trigger. For an instant, it seemed the old building would be demolished by a barrage of crossfire.

Aaron slowly lowered his weapon, contempt etched on his face. "This is a mistake. Tell your boss to prepare."

"It's not a mistake. It's a declaration," Lena said, her pistol now aimed squarely at the center of Aaron's forehead. "The war continues. And it won't stop until no one is left alive. Now, get out of my office."

Aaron Jenkins and his guards retreated in silence, swearing vengeance with their eyes. The territorial dispute had escalated from a skirmish to all-out war.

The Olympus personnel backed out of the office, keeping their weapons trained on the Royal guards until the last man was through the double doors.

Lena sank back into her dilapidated chair, collapsing as the tension finally broke. Cassandra did the same. Both let out a long, shaky sigh and looked at each other.

"Shit, that was my first negotiation with armed people," Lena said, fanning herself with a trembling hand. "I almost peed myself."

"I think I peed a little when they all drew their weapons," Cassandra replied, letting out a wild laugh. "I seriously thought I was going to die."

They both burst into relieved laughter.

After catching their breath, they spoke about the seriousness of their predicament now that Ethan was out of commission. Lena's face became resolute.

"I have the money," Lena said. "And we will stick to the plan. Buy more weapons and armored vehicles. Jason left the contacts, and the second shipment should be arriving soon. We need to prepare in case we have to shoot the Boss out of prison."

Cassandra's eyebrows shot up. "Are you really suggesting we attack a federal prison, Lena?"

"We don't have a choice," Lena retorted, running a hand through her long hair. "Right now, we are accomplices to terrorism, aggravated assault, use of military weaponry, grand theft, and murder. As soon as the Congressman knows we're running things, he will attack Royal mercilessly. That's why we can't show our faces or be recognized. What else can we do but get the Boss out of there?"

Just then, their lawyer, Davies, walked in. He looked completely defeated and slumped onto a nearby sofa, sighing deeply.

"No luck, girls," Davies said, rubbing his tired eyes. "I can't contact Ethan. They have him in maximum-security isolation. I can't even get an audience with him until tomorrow, when the initial hold expires."

"Could you get anything at all?" Cassandra asked, her voice laced with anxiety.

"Yes. At least not all was in vain," Davies replied. "I know some people on the inside. There are some of Santiago's old men serving time there, so I tracked one down. He told me the Boss has been having fun in there."

Lena and Cassandra looked at him, completely confused.

Davies continued, recounting the attempted riot, explaining that it all started because Jason had been beaten, and that "the Boss had broken several guards," which was why he was now in isolation until his hearing.

"Sounds like that boy doesn't know how to stay still," Cassandra remarked, shaking her head. "He only knows how to cause trouble."

"And if he didn't defend his men, who would believe in him?" Lena countered, defending Ethan's loyalty. "He's earning their respect in the only way they understand."

The conversation halted as the office door opened again. A figure entered, drawing immediate attention. It was an elderly man, seemingly around 80 years old, but his body was robust, strong, and full of life, creating a strange and powerful contrast to his age. He stood surveying the group, his presence commanding respect.

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