Chapter 6: Rules Written In Blood
1424 Words
There were rules in Morrows Estate that nobody needed to write down.
People simply knew them.
Don’t steal from Dante Morrow.
Don’t betray his men.
Don’t bring unnecessary trouble into the town.
And most importantly—
Don’t cross the boundary.
The same rules existed in Marinos Villa.
Different boss.
Different people.
Same understanding.
The fence between the two towns might have been low enough for a child to climb, but nobody treated it like an ordinary fence.
It was a line.
And lines existed for a reason.
Twenty years earlier, the line had almost disappeared.
Dante remembered that night.
He had been younger then.
Not softer.
Just younger.
Two of his men had gotten into an argument with a group from Marinos Villa over a business deal.
The argument became a fight.
The fight became a shooting.
Three men died.
One of them crossed the fence before he was killed.
That single act nearly started a war.
Dante had stood over the body while his men waited for his command.
“Do we retaliate?” Victor had asked.
Dante had looked toward the other side.
“No.”
The men had stared at him.
“No?”
“Take our dead home.”
“But they crossed into our territory.”
“I know.”
“And killed our men.”
“I know.”
Dante’s voice had remained calm.
“If we answer tonight, they’ll answer tomorrow. Then we’ll answer again.”
He looked at the bodies.
“And soon we’ll have two towns full of graves.”
Nobody argued.
That was how the agreement was born.
Not from trust.
Not friendship.
Fear.
Both sides had seen what a single death could become.
So the rules became sacred.
You don’t cross the line.
You don’t send men across the line.
You don’t touch the other side’s people without cause.
And if something went wrong, the bosses handled it.
The ordinary people deserved to sleep without waking to gunfire.
That was the idea.
For years, it worked.
On the Marinos side, Enzo had grown up hearing those rules.
Mr. Marino had drilled them into him before he was old enough to understand why.
One afternoon, when Enzo was seventeen, he had asked the question every young man eventually asked.
“Why are we so afraid of a fence?”
Mr. Marino had looked at him.
“We aren’t afraid of the fence.”
“Then what?”
“What’s on the other side.”
Enzo had laughed.
“Dante?”
Mr. Marino’s expression had remained serious.
“Dante isn’t the problem.”
“Then what is?”
“Men like Dante.”
Enzo frowned.
“What’s the difference?”
Mr. Marino leaned forward.
“The problem with powerful men is that they can turn one mistake into a war.”
That sentence stayed with Enzo.
He understood it years later.
Now, at thirty-two, Enzo stood in his office with a report in his hand.
Rico was dead.
The circumstances were unclear.
And his last known location was near the boundary.
Enzo placed the report on his desk.
“Who gave you this information?”
Luca stood across from him.
“One of the guards.”
“Name?”
“Samuel.”
“Bring him.”
A few minutes later, Samuel entered.
He looked nervous.
Enzo pointed at the chair.
“Sit.”
Samuel sat.
“What did you see?”
“I didn’t see the killing.”
“Then what did you see?”
“I saw two men near the fence.”
“Whose men?”
“I couldn’t tell.”
Enzo leaned forward.
“Try.”
Samuel swallowed.
“One looked like he was from our side.”
“And the other?”
“I think he was from Morrows.”
“You think?”
“It was dark.”
Enzo stared at him.
Samuel lowered his eyes.
“Boss, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
Enzo stood.
“Find out.”
Samuel nodded.
As he left, Luca looked at Enzo.
“You think Dante did it?”
“I think someone wants me to think Dante did it.”
Luca’s expression changed.
“Meaning?”
Enzo looked toward the window.
“Meaning this might be bigger than Rico.”
Across the boundary, Dante was having the same conversation.
Victor stood before him.
“The dead man was one of Enzo’s.”
Dante’s face remained unreadable.
“And?”
“We don’t know who killed him.”
“Then why are you standing here telling me?”
“Because his body was found close to our side.”
Dante’s eyes sharpened.
“Close isn’t across.”
“No.”
“Then don’t confuse the two.”
Victor nodded.
Dante walked to the window.
“Any of our men missing?”
“No.”
“Any weapons missing?”
“No.”
“Any orders given?”
“None.”
Dante turned.
“Good.”
Victor hesitated.
“Boss…”
“What?”
“If Enzo thinks we killed his man—”
“Then he’ll have to prove it.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
Dante looked at him coldly.
“Then we remind him of the rules.”
The next morning, both towns woke normally.
That was the frightening part.
Mrs. Ada opened her shop.
Children went to school.
The baker delivered bread.
A mechanic cursed at a stubborn engine.
Nobody knew how close the two territories were to breaking apart.
At the market, a woman bought tomatoes while two men whispered about the dead body found near the southern road.
“Marinos man,” one said.
“Are you sure?”
“That’s what I heard.”
The other man lowered his voice.
“Then we’re in trouble.”
“Why?”
“Because if Marino thinks Morrow killed him…”
He didn’t finish.
He didn’t need to.
At noon, Enzo received a message.
A small envelope.
No name.
No seal.
Just three words written across the front.
HE CROSSED FIRST.
Enzo opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
One of his men stood near the boundary.
Across from him were two figures dressed in dark clothing.
The image was blurry.
But it was enough to make his blood run cold.
One of the men looked like Dante’s.
Enzo stared at the photograph.
Luca watched him.
“What is it?”
Enzo handed it over.
Luca’s face hardened.
“Damn.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions.”
“It looks like our man was meeting them.”
“Exactly.”
“So?”
“So why would someone leave this for us?”
Luca went quiet.
Enzo looked at the photograph again.
Someone wanted him angry.
Someone wanted him to cross that fence.
And whoever it was knew exactly what would happen if he did.
Enzo folded the photograph.
“Find out who sent it.”
“And Dante?”
“Nothing.”
Luca nodded.
“For now.”
That evening, Dante received something too.
A photograph.
Same location.
Same night.
But a different angle.
Dante stared at it.
One of his men appeared to be standing near the fence.
Across from him was someone from Marinos Villa.
Victor waited.
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“Who took this?”
“We don’t know.”
“Who sent it?”
“Unknown.”
Dante placed the photograph on the desk.
“This is a warning.”
“From Enzo?”
“Maybe.”
Victor looked at him.
“Should we increase security?”
“Yes.”
“Retaliation?”
“No.”
Victor blinked.
Dante’s eyes remained on the photograph.
“Not until I know who wants us fighting.”
Night fell.
The boundary remained quiet.
The guards on both sides watched one another from a distance.
Nobody crossed.
Nobody fired.
But something had changed.
The peace no longer felt like peace.
It felt like two men standing on opposite sides of a loaded gun, each waiting to see who would move first.
And somewhere in the darkness, someone was watching.
Someone who understood both bosses.
Someone who knew their rules.
Someone who knew exactly how much blood it would take to break them.
The fence had protected the towns for years.
But rules were only as strong as the men willing to obey them.
And somebody had just discovered how easy it was to make two powerful men question each other.
The first lie had been planted.
The first body had already fallen.
And soon…
someone would cross the line.
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