Catching the hitman was easy.
I had eyes on Stefano and his home at all times. The sniper didn’t even get the chance to find a place to set up before my men had him contained.
Breaking him was easier.
It only took hours.
DeLuca had hired him through the black market, but I have men who know how to follow money and blood. It didn’t take long to trace it back to the hole the coward was hiding in.
Once I had him in my basement… I took my time.
Five years of torture.
One year for every year my precious daughter lived.
Her five years were short.
DeLuca’s were not.
So my family has been avenged. The anger is gone, but the heartache isn’t.
I moved from Sicily to New York fifteen years ago, effectively bringing the Moretti Mafia into the United States.
What was once a small family operation has grown into an empire of thousands.
The Moretti name is respected by some… and feared by most.
Ten years ago, men in my organization began reaching out, asking for a safe haven. Somewhere their families could live outside the constant reach of danger.
I understood that need.
I wanted it too.
A place where I could exist without the weight of beingDon. Even if only for a few days each month.
So I created one.
Palm Springs, California.
A desert that hides more than it reveals.
A place of quiet. Of distance.
Of something that almost feels like home.
I built an estate here…Italian in design but far removed from everything I came from. And when I’m here, I put distance between myself and the title I carry.
Not because I don’t want to beDon, but because even a man like me cannot carry everything forever.
We run too many operations, both legitimate and otherwise, for one man to control it all.
So I adapted.
I placed ten of my most trusted men in charge of our largest factions across the world, giving them authority where mine once stood alone.
And for the first time in years…I stepped back.
I met the Iron Shadows MC that first year in Palm Springs.
