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Joe - The head of the Galliano Family.
Everyone, except Mauro.
"Signori," I begin, my voice a low growl, "We've got a problem that will affect our truce.” The smoking and clinking of glasses stop.
“The owner of Spago did not pay me the protection money. Instead, he gave it to Mauro’s men, who had threatened him."
My eyes narrow as I continue, the weight of the situation evident in every word. "It seems, Mauro D’Erranti, is waging a war against my clan. I cannot let this insolence go unanswered." I clench my fists.
“My rival is a menace not just to me but to all of us. He seeks to disrupt the delicate balance we've maintained for years. His clan is trying to break our alliance. The alliance my father pledged to each of you. He has asked for a war." I wait for the response.
Bruno breaks the silence. "Then we need to eliminate him. We cannot risk the stability." He glares at the others.
"His tactics can weaken the entire syndicate. Bruno is right. He needs to be eliminated." Carlo chimes in.
“They are right. We need to take out any rogue element trying to disrupt the allegiance. Tiberio would have agreed, Tommaso,” Joe adds. The air thickens with tension as the voices grow louder. I got the green light from them, as I had hoped. I can’t yield. I can’t give ground to Mauro.
The alliances and power dynamics play out before me and I look at Francesco, who is engrossed in thought. Dante is watching me, nodding in approval.
Taking charge, I press on. "And we need to act fast, his men have crossed a line. If we don't act decisively, it won't just be my territory that suffers." I tell them about the warehouse. I let that sink in. The room falls into a contemplative silence as the leaders weigh the consequences.
Slowly, one by one, they begin to see the gravity of the situation further, recognizing the potential threat that Mauro poses to all of them. They reach a consensus.
"We stand with you," declares Joe. "We will provide you with any means of support required. The rival is a threat to us all, but be strategic in what you do. Your decision will have consequences for every man in every clan. " With that, I leave the room and take Francesco to a corner. His eyes meet mine, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of our conversation.
"Francesco," I begin, my voice low and measured, "we need to keep a vigilant eye on that restaurant. Mauro has played his card, and we can't afford to underestimate his moves."
Francesco's brow furrows. "What's the plan?"
"We patrol, but we do it smartly. Keep a good eye on everyone and everything. We need information first."
He nods in understanding. "How do we go about it without causing a stir?" A small, calculated smile plays on my lips.
"We blend in. We become patrons. We watch and listen."
Francesco's responds, "Undercover, then."
"Yes," I affirm. "Our presence should be felt but not acknowledged. The last thing we want is to escalate tensions prematurely." It will work.
"We'll rotate our men," I suggest, mapping out the logistics. "We need to keep them guessing. Make them question every friendly face."
Francesco grins. "Sounds good. On it."
I nod. "Precisely. We use their uncertainty to our advantage. Keep them on edge. Assemble men to do this. This needs to be carried out with great care," I emphasize further, meeting his gaze with intensity. "No mistakes, no slips. We gather the intelligence we need without tipping the balance."
Chapter Twelve
ELLA
Iwake up in an enormous room, disoriented and groggy. I can feel a pounding ache behind my temples as I struggle to focus. The room seems to sway in and out of focus, as if I'm stuck in a never-ending carousel.
I try to sit up, but waves of dizziness wash over me, pulling me back. My stomach churns uncomfortably, and a nauseating sensation takes over me. The air feels clean and cool, when I draw a full breath. I close my eyes, hoping to find some relief, but the darkness only intensifies the queasy feeling inside me.
The scent of something acrid lingers in my nose, invading my senses and causing my stomach to lurch even more violently. My head hurts like hell and my eyes are heavy. It feels like I have been out for ages.
As I force myself to sit up on the bed, I take in my surroundings—a spotless, modern room with pale blue wallpaper and blue rugs. What happened? I grab my head in confusion as the memory comes rushing back. The last thing I remember seeing is Tommaso’s face. That asshole.
My eyes immediately dart to the door, instinctively assessing it as my means of escape. I spring to my feet and rush towards it, only to find it locked. Shit.
