Page 6 of Savage Angels

“Start talking, Don,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Tell me everything you know about those killings, and maybe, just maybe, we can come to some sort of understanding.”

“Maybe,” he echoes, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “But then again, maybe not.”

Don Abruzzi rocks back in his chair, a sly grin spreading across his face as he watches my rage boil over.

“All right, Salvatore,” he drawls, finally deciding to spill the truth. “I’ll admit it. I ordered the hit on those Savage Angels bastards.”

His voice oozes arrogance, and I can hear the sadistic pleasure lacing every word. The bastard is really enjoying this—the thought of taking control of the casinos and snuffing out lives to get what he wants.

“Those casinos should have been mine from the start. So, I had to eliminate the competition, you see.” Don Abruzzi’s eyes gleam with malice.

My fists clench at my sides, knuckles white from the force of my grip. My teeth grind together, the sound echoing in my head like nails on a chalkboard as I fight to contain the anger threatening to consume me.

“Is this a game to you?” I spit out, my voice dangerously low.

“Ah, Salvatore,” he says with a dark chuckle. “Business is always a game, and I play to win.”

My mind races—thoughts of revenge and retribution for the fallen fill every corner of my consciousness. I won’t let him get away with this. I can’t. The Savage Angels and my men he killed deserve justice, and I’m going to be the one to deliver it.

“Enjoy your victory lap while it lasts, Don,” I say through gritted teeth. “Because I promise you, there will be consequences for your actions.”

“Bold words,” he replies, his smile never leaving his face. “But remember this, Salvatore… bold words often come back to haunt those who speak them.”

“Consider me haunted,” I snarl, turning on my heel and storming out of the room.

The fight has only just begun, and I don’t intend to lose.

***

With the memory of Don Abruzzi’s twisted smile and chilling confession still branded in my mind, I storm back to my office, my blood boiling. My fists remain clenched and my knuckles white as if I’m ready to tear him apart with my bare hands. But I know that won’t be enough—not for me and not for the Savage Angels.

“Justice,” I growl, my voice shaking with fury. “I swear on everything I hold dear, there will be justice for those who were taken from us.”

“Sal, we’re with you,” Lorenzo says, his eyes filled with determination.

The rest of my men nod in agreement, their loyalty unwavering. It strengthens my resolve and hardens my heart against any doubt or fear that may try to creep in.

My gaze locks onto the framed photo of my family on my desk, reminding me of what’s at stake. Emily, my beautiful wife, and our children—their lives depend on me ending this madness.

“Listen up,” I say, my voice low and dangerous but steady. “We’re going to bring down Don Abruzzi and every last one of those snake bastards in his family who oppose us. They’ll pay for what they’ve done, and I’ll make damn sure they never forget it.”

“Damn right,” Lorenzo agrees, fire in his eyes. “They messed with the wrong crew.”

“First things first,” I say, steeling myself for the battle ahead. “We need to gather intel on all the Abruzzi Crime Family’s operations. Find their weaknesses and exploit them. We hit them where it hurts, and we don’t stop until they’re begging for mercy.”

As they file out of the office, I take a moment to collect myself. The weight of the situation settles on my shoulders, but I don’t let it break me. Instead, I use it as fuel, a fire that burns inside me, pushing me forward.

In the deafening silence of my office, a plan begins to form in the back of my mind—a plan that will bring down Don Abruzzi and restore balance to our world. No matter how long it takes, no matter what it costs me, I won’t rest until I see it through for the Savage Angels, my family, and every life destroyed by the Abruzzi Crime Family’s greed and cruelty.

***

When my emotions are in check, I sit behind my desk, pour myself a glass of red wine, and dial Dane. He needs to be updated on Don Abruzzi and what he’s done.

“Sal?” Dane’s voice comes through the line, strong and steady as always.

“Hey, Dane. You aren’t going to fucking believe this,” I snarl, struggling to keep my rage in check. “That son of a bitch, Don Abruzzi, was behind it all. The motherfucker ordered the hits on my men and the Savage Angels.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dane growls, his fury apparent even through the phone. “What are we going to do about this?”

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