The door of the tavern creaked open. A young kid, barely twenty, walked in. He was wearing a designer tracksuit, but his eyes were hollow. In his hand, he swung a heavy, chrome-plated chain—a modern fiară .
For years, Luca had been the "arm" for the local syndicate. His job was simple: ensure the silence of those who spoke too much. He didn't use a gun; the "irons" were more personal. They sent a message that lasted longer than a bullet—a permanent limp, a shattered jaw, a memory etched in bone. Articole pe tema: „fiare de bandă”
As the streetlights flickered outside, the shadows of the two men stretched long against the brick walls—two generations of "irons" waiting for the silence to break. The door of the tavern creaked open