Yellowstone: Wind in the Smoke

"They fear you."

In the backseat of a black SUV, Susie, scrolling through her phone, spoke as Dante silently observed the city.

"They don't fear me; they fear what I'm capable of. Even if they manage to kill me, their entire world would crumble." Dante knew James's life inside and out, from his chauffeur to the math teacher of his son, Tariq—a mere innocent child unaware of his father's true nature.

Working with Felipe Lobos, the leader of one of the largest Mexican drug cartels, had its consequences. So far, Ghost's crew was gaining traction, earning Felipe's trust, and steadily increasing product sales.

But as a distributor, Ghost's operations were more sophisticated.

Both he and Tommy handled large-scale cocaine sales to all the gangs in New York, positioning themselves as some of Felipe's closest associates.

Sure, Ghost's crew sold drugs, but to Felipe, these were mere trivialities. During this time, he had been testing Ghost, studying him, and determining if he was truly worthy of trust.

"As I suspected, they didn't just attack Ghost's organization and mine, but others as well—the Bloods, Ruiz's gang, and even the Italians." Dantewas navigating dangerous waters, fully aware of the need to maintain control—and he knew how to do it.

"Do you know who they are?"

"They'll be dead tonight," Dante replied, idly toying with a silver bullet in his hand.

Staring out the vehicle's window, Max's gaze seemed distant. He hadn't been here long but already missed the open landscapes free of any buildings. No doubt, when he returned home, he'd relish life's simple pleasures like any other rancher.

But for now, he had more pressing matters to attend to—eliminating those causing him trouble.

"Boss, if they're still where they've been until now, we'll need their permission," William interrupted, breaking the silence that Danteseemed uninterested in continuing.

Everyone knew there were more organizations in certain parts of the city, each more significant and dangerous than the last. That's why Dantewas intrigued—what kind of organization was so important that they needed its approval to avoid misunderstandings?

"Who's there?"

"The Tarasov family. We can't afford to clash with the mafia now, especially while we're expanding," William explained, now solving more problems than Dante was even aware of.

Viggo Tarasov had been a notorious Russian crime boss, head of the Tarasov crime family, and a former employer of a legendary hitman.

Months ago, the Sons of Anarchy, who had taken over the marijuana trade, signed an agreement not to sell cocaine in New York as long as they had exclusive rights to the cannabis market.

It would be a problem to enter their territory now and kill at will enemies that only they had.

"I'll pay them a visit."

"That would be best, boss."

Dantethen turned to Susie and asked, "Want to join me?"

Susie looked at Dantesilently, questioning whether she had heard correctly.

"Not interested in meeting the old man?"

"Not at all."

…

"Does God exist?" Inside a church, Dante sat beside a man in a suit who appeared harmless.

"Everyone asks that same question when they want to challenge the existence of something as unimaginable as God. Who created God?"

"A simple answer would be no one, nothing. So, has He always existed?"

"The correct answer is that God has always existed—He is uncreated."

"To reach this conclusion, we know the universe was created in a single moment. Everything known as matter, even time, was created in a single moment. Therefore, whoever created it isn't material or temporal—that is what we call God."

Dante looked at the man and, after a brief silence, murmured, "I didn't think the famous Viggo could be so profound. I truly enjoy topics like these."

"Don't fool yourself. Look, I appreciate you coming to my house to warn me about some murders, but don't you think I'd get the wrong idea about you setting up the meeting in one of my vaults inside a common church?" Viggo's piercing gaze fixed on Dante, who merely checked his watch.

Dante knew he could only grab this peculiar old man's attention by visiting his bank, hidden within a typical church.

"I don't like silence."

"I love silence, Viggo. You know my organization is under attack, and I want to ensure it's from a single source before I return to my lair." Dante had ensured there was no trace of him online. He had contacts to alter his information.

If anyone tried to track down his residence, they'd find hundreds of false leads. And by the time he knew someone was snooping into his identity, some of his men would already be knocking at their door.

But for this, he needed money—far more than he earned selling cannabis and weapons. A part of him wanted to get involved in cocaine.

The only problem was Viggo and Ghost's crew. Killing them would invite enemies more powerful than he could currently handle, so he would bide his time.

Dante hoped it wouldn't take long.

Even after returning, he realized he didn't like sharing his profits.

"So, what do you need from me? Weapons, money, men—I can give you anything as long as you become my distributor."

"I can't. Felipe Lobos is watching me. I don't want to upset the Mexicans." Dante checked the time and, before standing, added, "But I'll respect your territory. You know the Sons of Anarchy always follow the code."

"Well, you're stepping into a field you might not fully control."

Dante smirked faintly and replied, "I've got experience."

He wasn't lying. Dante had the expertise to dive into this line of business. Now he had a sophisticated organization, well-shielded from exposure.

At least in that aspect, he felt secure. No gang or mafia could touch him without receiving a devastating counterattack.

Dante, while not the most powerful, bit hard and always knew where to strike.

That's something all powerful men recognize just by looking at him, and Dante hoped it would stay that way.