GLACIER TRUCE

The night stank of gasoline and gun oil.

Down by the dockyard, where the mist crawled low like smoke from the underworld, Hades Fruit moved in silence.

No chatter. No wasted motion.

Renzo's voice was the only one cutting through the calm, low and cold.

"Quick. In, out. No noise. Glacier, handle the right wing with the other mobsters. Ace, keep your eyes on the containers."

It was supposed to be simple, retrieve the shipment, erase the trail, disappear before sunrise.

But fate had other plans.

From the other end of the pier, footsteps echoed...measured, deliberate, not afraid.

Glacier's head lifted first. He saw shadows move through the fog, three silhouettes walking like they owned the night.

And just like that, calm snapped.

Renzo's jaw tightened.

"Tell me you didn't call for backup." Renzo snapped.

"I didn't," Glacier mumbled.

Ace smirked, cocking his gun. "Then we've got company."

Out of the fog, Nightshade appeared.

Erica stepped first, black coat sweeping behind her, gun low at her side, eyes like fire that had learned control.

Venetta walked a half-step behind, chewing gum with the kind of confidence that made men nervous, a grin stitched on her lips and a knife glinting in her hand.

The air shifted. Enemies, old as sin.

Erica's gaze met Renzo's, not surprise, not fear, just irritation.

"This place was supposed to be empty," she said, her tone calm, warning.

Renzo's reply was colder. "That's funny. Because it belongs to us."

Ace gave a low whistle. "Small world, huh?"

Venetta's smirk sharpened. "Then maybe you should've built higher fences."

"What are you doing here?" Renzo repeated.

Erica's tone was even, but her eyes flickered. "Following a lead. Ours."

Renzo's stare hardened. "Your lead just ran into my mission."

"Then maybe your mission is trespassing."

The air grew thin, taut with pride.

Neither side wanted this fight - but neither would walk away first.

Before Renzo could speak, Venetta moved - too fast, too reckless.

Her knife sang through the air and buried itself into a Hades mobster's neck.

The mobster fell, choking on his own blood.

It was obvious that she was high.

For a heartbeat, everything froze.

Then chaos erupted.

"Goddammit, Venetta" Erica snapped, but it was too late.

Glacier had already opened fire.

The docks exploded with gunshots, glass, and screams.

Renzo moved like shadow, ducking behind a container and firing back, each shot clean, deliberate.

Glacier handled the rest, ice-cold, empty-eyed, dropping mobsters like dominoes.

Ace? He was smiling - that sick, adrenaline-fed grin - as he charged straight for Venetta.

Venetta met him halfway.

"You're in my way, pretty boy."

"Sweetheart, you wish."

She swung first - knife flashing. Ace blocked, twisted, caught her wrist, and she kicked him square in the ribs. He stumbled, laughed, and threw a punch that barely missed her face.

She ducked, rolled, came up with her blade drawn across his cheek.

Blood welled.

His grin widened. "Now we're talking."

"Keep grinning," she hissed, "I'll cut the rest