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My phone buzzes with a text from Seb, giving me the all clear.
You're good to go.
"About fucking time," I mutter under my breath as I head towards the entrance. The doors creak open and I step inside the warehouse, an icy tension immediately wrapping around me like a cold embrace. These meetings are technically safe zones– meaning I shouldn't have to worry about being shot – but I wouldn't put it past some of these pricks to break that rule if it suited them. However, peace seems to hold its fragile ground despite the thick tension suffocating the room.
"Alright then, let's get this fucking party started," I say, loud enough for everyone to hear, earning a few surprised glances from those not expecting such irreverence.
"Listen up," I begin, raising my voice to command the attention of the room. "Given my father's murder and the loss of our family power, I intend to take this family back over." I watch as their expressions shift; some faces betray agreement while others twist with contempt.
"Well, you've got some fucking nerve!" One man stands up in protest. I recognize him as one of Charlie's closest friends. Under different circumstances, I would've shown him how we Maldonados handle dissent, just like I did at the last meeting. But I know better than to murder a member of the old guard in cold blood in a safe zone. So I grit my teeth and listen as he questions my loyalties. "Why should you even be allowed to leave this place alive, given what you did to Charlie?"
My temper flares, but I manage to keep it under control. Barely. I look around the room, letting my green eyes burn into each person present before I continue. "I found out that Charlie was plotting with the Irish to kill Primo and take control of the family himself. When I discovered that, there was no time to call a meeting like this and get approval to take him out." I pause for effect, letting the weight of my words sink into their minds.
"Charlie made his move, and I protected my family – which is what I'd expect every single one of you in this room to do." The tension in the air grows heavier, but as I scan the faces once more, I can see general agreement among them. They may not all like me – hell, they might even hate me – but they understand loyalty when it stares them right in the face.
"Fine." The man who challenged me reluctantly sits back down, still glaring daggers at me. I know I'll have to watch my back with him, but for now, the matter is settled.
"Any other questions, or can we get on with the fucking vote?" My voice is a mix of impatience and sarcasm.
My attention briefly drifts from the old guard, but it's quickly captured again as another member stands. The elderly man's eyes bore into mine, challenging me without saying a word.
"Constantino," he finally speaks, his voice gravelly with age. "How do you intend to deal with the Irish?"
"Ah, the Irish." I can't help but grin at that. "I'm glad you asked. See, I've been the one heading our relationship with them for years. It only went to shit once I left."
I lean forward slightly, my hands gripping the edge of the table, my green eyes locked onto him. "I know their weaknesses, their pain points. And trust me" – a sinister smile crosses my lips – "I plan to make full use of them."
The old man studies me for a moment longer, then seems satisfied with my answer and sits back down. I can feel the tension in the room start to dissipate; maybe some of these old bastards are actually coming around.
Sebastian, ever the tactician, seizes the moment. "Anyone want to motion for a vote?" he asks, glancing around the room.
The last member to speak raises his hand. "I motion for Constantino Maldonado to be appointed head of the family."
And so it begins. The vote goes around the room, and the naysayers, though present, are few. Most of the old guard approve, even if some of them do it begrudgingly.
As the last vote is cast, I can't help but think about what lies ahead. The Irish, the power struggles within the family, and the ever-present danger that comes with this life. But no matter what, I'm ready to face it all – on my terms.
"Alright," I say, standing up and looking around the room. "Let's get to work."
I stay behind to shake hands with the old guard members as they file out of the warehouse.
"Congratulations, boss," Sebastian says, clapping me on the shoulder as the last of the old guard leaves. "Now let's get going. We've got a meeting with the lower-level soldiers."
"Sounds good." I follow Sebastian out of the warehouse, and we climb into an unmarked black SUV. As we drive, he tells me that word has already been sent out about my new position – I'm in charge now, and it feels damn good.
We pull up to the safehouse, a nondescript building tucked away on a quiet street. There's a group of soldiers waiting for us outside, their expressions a mix of curiosity and anticipation. As we step out of the car, I can't help but feel a sense of foreboding – something just doesn't seem right.
"Let's get this show on the road," I say, trying to ignore the unease gnawing at the pit of my stomach. Sebastian nods, and we head inside.
"Alright, boys," I announce, glancing around the room. "Listen up, 'cause I don't plan on repeating myself." I start laying out my plans for the family, making it clear that things are gonna change around here.
I want the gun trade resumed, people to be on their posts on time, and the other businesses that have fallen into disarraybrought back to life. The family cannot operate if it doesn't have legitimate means to run it's money through.
The response is a mix of enthusiasm and skepticism, but I can work with that.
"Any questions?" I ask when I'm done, scanning the faces before me.
"Boss, what about the Westies?" one of them asks, and I can see the worry in his eyes. It makes sense. I'm sure even they've heard the rumblings all the way down the chain and are curious why I'm not using them to start some serious bloodshed.
