In the front seat of the black SUV, the young man in an old cotton coat turned his head and asked anxiously, "Boss, should we rush in now?"
The man, whose years of fighting showed in his fierce aura and an old scar at the corner of his right eye, smiled and shook his head. "No rush. With their firepower and level of experience, we won't kill them before the military arrives. Besides, knowing SAMCRO's vengeful nature, it's certain they'll come after us later."
"Damn, things in London are anything but calm," said the young man holding a smart tablet, surprised.
"What's going on?" asked Jean Vilain, the boss and leader of the mercenary group called Sangs, a paramilitary organization involved in arms trafficking and nuclear resources.
He had led the attack on SAMCRO and was now witnessing the counterattack thanks to one of his informants who had helped him pull it off.
He wasn't worried. He had many well-armed soldiers under his command, all following his orders with blind loyalty.
"The Chinese Prime Minister was assassinated in London. According to the dark web, there's speculation that China is blaming London for working with the United States to make the hit possible. Now they're in serious trouble because they have no idea what really happened."
Jean checked the time and asked, "And how does that concern us?"
"My informant says professional assassins were hired to kill a journalist, a maid working at the Chinese embassy, and an undercover FBI agent in London."
"I know what you're thinking—handing that info to the Chinese should lead them to the real culprit—but why should we care what happens in the world?" Jean had no intention of getting involved in such treacherous business.
"Shouldn't we get involved?"
"If we make one mistake, we could be attacked by both sides. That would be too dangerous. Besides, we still need to take this opportunity to prepare for our confrontation with SAMCRO."
After saying that, Jean ordered, "Get us out of here."
"Yes, boss!" The older man at the wheel stepped on the gas, and the black SUV quickly left the scene where the police were starting to gather.
…
In a dark basement under Halstead Mission, a man—or rather, a woman who was a man—sat at a wooden table, crying.
"I don't know who you people are or what you want, but you've got the wrong person."
"No. You're the one who benefits if the Glass family is pushed out of the cannabis business. So don't give me that crap. It'll take more time to get the truth out of you, but trust me—I won't kill you if you talk," said Dante, dipping his hands in ice water after having beaten the man repeatedly.
He had promised Susie that he would handle this personally and, if necessary, kill anyone to find the person who had murdered her family.
But right now, Dante was only looking for those who had sold information. Eddie's brother might be one of them, but he was too stupid to pull something that smart.
"You're the head of SAMCRO. You must have a lot of enemies…"
"You're not answering." Dante wrapped his knuckles again with a thin layer of cloth.
He walked over to a tray with liquid glue, soaked part of the cloth in it, then pressed it onto some broken glass.
The man, who had been resisting so far, screamed in terror. "Don't kill me! Please don't kill me!"
"You're no use to me alive. So I'll kill you, and then I'll go after your family. I'll rip off their limbs and take the women somewhere they can be used, all because you won't talk." Dante, of course, had no time to do something like that.
But in the minds of many criminals, the leader of SAMCRO was the worst kind of scum, capable of bringing down buildings if he wanted to.
What would stop people from believing he would follow through?
Absolutely nothing. That's why he did it—because it usually worked.
"Wait, boss… are you really going to kill him?" Cocodrilo had never seen Dante this angry, and even he wasn't sure if he would kill the man without getting more answers.
"Yes." Dante didn't even turn to look at Cocodrilo's confused face.
The tortured man's eyes widened in shock. "Please, I can't talk…"
"Cillian, right? That's your name, isn't it? You'd better talk and make sure everyone involved in this dies too. Don't take those secrets to the grave."
Cillian lowered his gaze and sighed. "We were contacted by a third party. His name was Jess. Of course, we don't work for free, and what he promised us was… tempting."
"Who?" Dante lifted Cillian's head and stared straight into his eyes.
"He mentioned a major shift. Said they'd have control over both fentanyl and cocaine, but to do things right, they needed to remove the Glass family from the cannabis trade." Cillian spoke quickly, fearing they wouldn't believe him.
He was clearly nervous, so he took a deep breath before continuing. "The Mexicans are involved. They handle the fentanyl. And the Triad assassins too—they lent their killers to wipe out all the SAMCRO hitmen in London."
"Listen, we had no choice but to join them. We couldn't risk being attacked by those psychotic Mexicans who'd cut us up with chainsaws, or the damn Chinese Triads. You get me?" asked Cillian, hoping to be understood.
"That makes sense…" Dante let go of Cillian's head and began unwrapping his hands.
"Boss, we know the Chinese didn't attack us. Neither did the Mexicans."
Dante seemed to realize that the true goal of all Glass family enemies wasn't to destroy them—but to use them as bait to get him killed.
They knew Dante would fly to London the moment he learned the Glass family had been attacked.
That's why the Mexican cartel forces that control fentanyl and the ruthless Triad assassins were waiting.
"We have to strike first, before they can react. Wipe them all out. Every last one of them," Dante said firmly.
"Alright! I get what you're saying, but know this won't be easy," said Cocodrilo, who knew that tracking people across countries took more than just money.
He gave in to Dante's plan, but his words still carried a strong persuasive weight.
Dante needed a smart subordinate who would question him—and someone he could trust. Dante's words made sense, but he was still hoping his plan would work flawlessly.
Now they were one step ahead of their enemies.
"Was Stanley involved in this?"
"I don't know much about that old man, but they were planning to take out all of SAMCRO's suppliers too. That includes the Harrigans. It's no surprise they were framed… AAAAAAH!"
Before he could finish, Cillian screamed in pain.
Dante had cut off one of his fingers with a knife. "Shut up! Don't tell me crap that everyone already knows. Tell me something I don't know! You get one more chance!" Dante said, knife in hand, eyes fixed on him.
"Richie Stevenson."
"That's what I wanted." Dante started writing down names on a hit list that was already far too long.
A few minutes later, he had everything he needed.
"The partners are arriving," Eddie said, walking over to Dante, who was having a pleasant conversation with his fiancée while wiping the blood off his hands.
"Oh, right on time."