A seven-year-old boy stopped me outside school and asked me to walk him home because “nobody believes me.” He had no idea I was Dante Moretti—known in certain circles as “The Wolf,” the man who controlled half the city’s underground empire—but when he opened his front door, I recognized something inside that house connected to a betrayal my organization had been hunting for years.

Six months later, the spring sun was warm and brilliant over the green mountains of Stowe, Vermont.

The estate on Hillside Road was a grand, rustic home surrounded by acreage of pine trees, rolling meadows, and a clear mountain stream.

On the wide wooden porch, Martha Keller sat in a rocking chair, knitting a bright blue sweater while sipping fresh tea. Sitting beside her was Vincent Caruso, wearing a comfortable flannel shirt, looking younger and healthier than he had in twenty years.

Down near the stream, eight-year-old Owen was running through the grass with a golden retriever puppy he had adopted from a local farm, his clear, happy laughter echoing through the mountain air.

A sleek black sedan pulled up the winding gravel driveway.

I stepped out of the car, carrying a small wooden box under my arm. I wore a simple gray suit without a tie—a man who had successfully transitioned an empire into a legitimate, bulletproof corporate legacy.

"Dante!" Owen yelled with excitement, dropping his wooden stick and sprinting up the hill toward me, the puppy tumbling right behind him.

I caught the boy in a warm embrace, swinging him around before setting him down on the soft grass.

"Look at you, Owen," I smiled, brushing his dark hair back. "You’ve grown two inches since winter."

"I got an 'A' on my history project!" Owen announced proudly. "I wrote about the old trains in Chicago!"

"I knew you would," I said, patting his shoulder.

I walked up the porch steps, greeting Martha with a warm kiss on her cheek and shaking Vincent’s hand firmly.

"How is the city, Dante?" Vincent asked as we sat on the porch chairs overlooking the mountains.

"Quiet," I replied, taking a glass of lemonade from Martha. "The board is completely restructured. Caruso Enterprises is now the largest legitimate logistics firm in the Midwest. No dirty money, no illegal shipments, no shadows."

"And Arthur Vance?"

"Plead guilty yesterday," I said flatly. "He’ll spend the next thirty years at Fort Leavenworth."

I set the small wooden box on the table between us.

Vincent looked at the box curiously. "What's this?"

"Open it," I said.

Vincent opened the brass latch and lifted the lid. Inside lay his original silver signet ring—the one engraved with the black wolf—polished until it gleamed like new.