A/N: This is the third book of the For The Empire series and not a standalone.

The prologue was written in Third Person POV but the rest of the book will be in First person POV

***Edit: Added song to chapter

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The putrid stench of stale urine and human feces burns his nose as he descends the long cement staircase. His shoes echo around him, adding to the musty, damp atmosphere in the dark basement as he makes his way to the end of the long hall, to the holding cell. Several men greet him silently as he passes by each one.

Their eyes avoid his cold and hardened gaze. Instead, he senses and sees the worried and fearful glances that come his way ever since he woke up in the hospital after the attempted assassination. He hears the hushed whispers and conversations spoken on his behalf. They wonder if he will ever remember who he was before he woke up, with little to no memory of his previous life.

Snippets of moments and memories return here and there, but most of it is a blank. All that matters is, the most important details are still there; the betrayals, the lies, and the all-consuming hate, for those who turned on Johnny and Timo, his mentor.

He's been waiting for almost four years for this day. In the beginning, he spent day after day searching and chasing down leads. The days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. But it was finally here—his moment of redemption. Well, at least one of them, but he knew this would be the most satisfying.

As he approaches, his second in command stops him before reaching the door. Adonis' hand grips onto his shoulder, firmly, to keep him from moving forward. Johnny clenches his jaw before sparing an uninterested glance at his friend.

"Don't do this." Adonis urges. "This is not who you are. You are not yourself."

Johnny grinds his teeth. "I am who I am supposed to be. You had no issue when I slaughtered the others. Why now?"

Adonis takes his time, putting his thoughts into words, knowing how quickly his boss's unrestrained temper erupts, leaving nothing but ash and death in its wake since his memory was gone. "Those men...they deserved what they got, no question. They sold their souls to Giovanni. But this...this is different, John Pa--" The ice-cold glare coming from Johnny stops him.

"Johnny, he's family."

Johnny shrugs out of Adonis' grip. "No. No, he's not, Donny. He stopped being family the moment he betrayed me when he betrayed Timo when he killed Tobias. When he let Giovanni's men kidnap and then kill Carmela."

He sidesteps Adonis and grips the handle to the door. "She would not want you to do this," Adonis states quietly behind him.

Johnny turns his head a fraction to eye Adonis over his shoulder. "She's not here, is she?" As much as Adonis wants him to remember her, he can't, or he won't let himself remember, not right now, not when he needs to finish this.

But the truth is, he fights to remember the woman who haunts his dreams, who enters his mind at random times throughout the day. Her visions bring a burning fire through him, but it always leaves him with a yearning and longing that he doesn't quite understand.

There's confusion as to who she is or was to him at times. A friend, a lover, an enemy. Her appearance changes between a caramel-haired woman and a raven-haired woman, but the eyes are always the same.

Johnny clears his head and sets his focus in place before he turns the handle and steps into the dimly lit room, followed by Adonis and a couple more of his men. The sound of a chain scraping against the cement floor comes from the far end of the small room. The room is illuminated in stark, fluorescent lighting when Johnny flips the switch on the wall.

He takes in a deep inhale as he takes in the pathetic form of the man he once knew as his father. His once white shirt is dirty, blood-stained and dingy, after two months of being here. The soiled stains on his pants tell of his constant relieving of himself, day after day, sitting and soaking in his filth.

His once clean-cut and clean-shaven look is long gone, with his hair now overgrown, shaggy and graying. His graying facial hair is also unkempt and uneven.

The bags under his eyes reflect his lack of sleep. His once well-kept physique is now a shadow of the frail, depleted form he's become. Yes, Tony Toretto is no longer the formidable man he once was.

Long gone are the days he held an imposing presence. But more importantly, he no longer has any power or fear over him. Tony lifts his head and looks up at him with his swollen eyes, then scoffs.

"I was wondering if I'd ever see you or if you're still too much of a pussy to face me as you've always been." Tony sneers.

Johnny laughs humorlessly. "I would have been here sooner, trust me. Unfortunately, however, I was busy recovering from a near-fatal accident, ordered by your Boss Giovanni. But I'm here now. I've been looking forward to this moment for a long time." He takes slow, measured steps towards Tony and gestures for his men to lift Tony onto a chair.

"It seems you're invincible then, doesn't it, son." With the men's effort, Tony grunts as they pull him up from the ground and then shove him against the chair.

"I'm not your son."

Tony laughs and then begins coughing. "You can change your name, the way you look, the way you carry yourself, but the fact remains. My blood runs through your veins, John Paul." He grins up at Johnny.

"Look at yourself, look at what you've become. I did this. I made you the man you are today. You're not the same scared little boy, who was too far up a girl's cunt, to think for him--" The blow that Johnny delivers stops Tony from finishing. Johnny enjoys the throbbing in his hand and fights the urge to unleash a fury of hits on Tony.

Tony begins laughing lowly, and it only encourages Johnny to hit him again. This time, the force knocking him off the chair. Johnny's men pull Tony back up on the chair, and he sags against it. He spits blood on the cement floor.

Tony continues to bait Johnny, "Still a touchy subject for you, I see."  But Johnny's too clever to let Tony get to him more than he already made him believe he has.

"Where are Giovanni and Jimmy hiding out?" Johnny questions Tony. Tony peers up at him, his nose bleeding profusely and heavily. The ring on Johnny's hand also left a gash on his face.

"If I knew, I would tell you. But, unfortunately, I haven't heard from Gio or Jimmy in a long time." Tony claims, spitting more blood on the floor. "I guess this what you would call Karma, right? After the ambush at Timo's, they left several of us to fend for ourselves once Timo's reinforcements arrived to stop Jimmy."

"This isn't Karma, Tony. You're here for poetic justice."

Tony scoffs, "Tell me what your precious amore would think about this new persona you embodied? Do you think she would be proud of you? Do you think she'd still love you after all the blood your hands have spilled?"

"She has nothing to do with this." Johnny states.

Tony grunts. "She has everything to do with this. She always has." He leans back and looks at Johnny, observing him. "She was always stronger than you; I just never realized it until the end. She surprised us all with her sheer will to fight and survive when Cardinale had her.

I've also heard she was quite the assassin, working for Cristian Romano. Took out several people with quickness and efficiency that made Enzo look like an amateur."

Johnny leans against the wall, appearing disinterested, but flashes of memories return to him as Tony speaks. Of course, he doesn't remember everything, but bits and pieces come to him here and there. An unfinished puzzle is his life as it flickers in his head.

Snapshots run through his mind of hazel green eyes, stolen kisses, gentle caresses, soft whispers, promises of undying love, moments in bed, in the shower, and a ring. But then all of that is tarnished by images of swollen, black eyes, bloodied lips, cuts, scars, and blood, so much blood.

"Looks like I hit another nerve." Tony smiles, his teeth stained with blood, and he continues, "What about your mother? Hmm? What would she think about her darling little boy? I'm sure she'd like the fact you're using her maiden name, but then again, maybe not.

Considering you've done a lot of shady things using her name. Was that your goal? To dishonor her name, the way you have? Because if that's the case, then you're doing a fantastic job--" Johnny gives a subtle gesture, and one of his men punches Tony.

"I'm sure the disappointment my mother felt towards the end of her life, in who you turned out to be, outweighs the things I've done." Johnny pushes himself away from the wall and revels in the look of anger on Tony's face as he approaches him again.

Tony's anger switches to amusement. "You have changed John Paul. I'm actually proud of you." Johnny's stomach flips; the sensation of nausea overcomes him at the words, but he pushes past it. "But the truth is as much as you don't want to admit it, you really should thank me for pushing you to be the man you are today."

"I owe you nothing." Tony's eyes widen a little as Johnny draws his gun, cocking it. "I won't ask again, where are Gio and Jimmy?" Johnny lifts his gun, aiming it at Tony.

"You can't kill me, John Paul. No matter how angry you are at me or how much you hate me, you could never pull the trigger, son." He grins mockingly at Johnny.

"You're right. John Paul could never do it." Johnny takes a step closer. He gives Tony a cold smile, "But I'm not John Paul."

He relishes the fear that comes over Tony as he recognizes what is about to happen. Tony opens his mouth to say something but the loud clapping of the gunshot puts an end to him.

The silence in the room is heavy.

Johnny lowers the gun, "Upload the photos as soon as possible. I want the word to spread quickly. I want Gio and Jimmy and their one-eyed cocksucker to know their time is finally up." He turns to face his men in the room.

"I'm coming for them all, and hell's coming with me."