Page 2 of Marco

They take a seat in the back corner, speaking in hushed tones. I fight the unease twisting in my gut. This is my haven, I remind myself. But I can't escape the feeling that the shadows have found me at last. The ghosts of my family are not so easily outrun.

two

Marco

The dim light casts ominous shadows across the dark wood walls of my office. I sit behind an imposing mahogany desk, my posture rigid, exuding complete authority. My tailored three-piece suit fits like a glove, crisp white shirt immaculate, my cufflinks glinting in the low light. There's not a paper out of place on the vast desktop. I fold my hands, my gaze intense, piercing. This is my domain. My empire.

I built this from nothing. Clawed my way up from the gutter through grit and ruthlessness. Now I rule this city's underbelly with an iron fist. None dare challenge me, not even my most hardened rivals. The old dons scoffed at me once. Not anymore.

A knock at the door. "Enter," I bark out. My capo, Luca, slinks in. The man glances around nervously despite our years together. Good. He still fears me.

"The shipment arrived at the docks, boss." Luca licks his lips anxiously. "But we got a problem..."

My eyes narrow, jaw tightening. "Explain." My tone brooks no argument. Luca flinches. He knows how I feel about problems.

"The Irish...they hit our warehouse last night. Took the whole stash."

Rage courses through me. "And you let this happen?" My voice drops to a deadly whisper.

Luca pales. "It was the O'Malleys, boss. We was outnumbered—"

"How did they know which warehouse we were using? We just changed locations."

"We're looking into it, boss."

"And they took everything? Weren't we securing product in multiple batches to avoid this?"

"Yeah, we don't know how they knew. Like I said, we're looking into it… but there were just so many of them—"

I slam my fist on the desk. Luca jumps. "No excuses!" I snap. "I gave you one task. Secure the product."

I take a breath, steadying myself. "The Irish will pay for this insult." I meet Luca's eyes. "As will you."

He gulps, nodding quickly. Message received. I do not tolerate failure.

I wave Luca away in dismissal and lean back, contemplating my next move. The O'Malleys will learn what happens when they cross me. They might be scrappy and resourceful, but I built this empire through ruthlessness and sheer force of will. And I'll be damned if I let some upstart Irish punks take what's mine.

I have no illusions that things will just continue along like they have been for so many years. The city still belongs to me. For now, at least. But the shadows are shifting, strange tidings reaching my ear. Change is coming. I can feel it. And I must be ready.

I steeple my fingers, contemplating the news Luca delivered. The Irish stealing our shipment is a bold move, one that cannot go unanswered. But retaliation requires careful calculation. I cannot be rash, despite the rage burning inside me. Rashness costs money, costs lives. And I can’t afford to lose either right now.

I press a button on my desk. "Send in Aldo."

Moments later, my trusted advisor enters. Aldo's face is lined with years of service. He bows respectfully. "You summoned me, boss?"

"The Irish hit our warehouse. Took everything."

Aldo's expression darkens. "The O'Malleys? Those snakes. What are your orders?"

I tap my fingers on the desk. "Ready our men. But do not act yet. I want to know how the Irish knew about the shipment, who their informant is." My eyes bore into Aldo's. "Find the rat, then we make our move."

He nods. "I'll take care of it personally."

"Good. This insult will not stand." I dismiss Aldo, knowing that if anyone can track down a rat, it's him, and turn my chair to gaze out the window overlooking the city, bathed in evening light. From up here, everything seems orderly, tranquil. But I know the truth. The city seethes with unseen rivalries, constantly threatening to boil over.

Maintaining power requires eternal vigilance. Enemies lurk in every shadow, everyone posturing and positioning to make a power grab. To take what's mine. I trust no one, rely on no one. It's a lonely perch, but one I must occupy alone.

I close my eyes, allowing myself a moment of vulnerability. But only a moment. Sentiment is a luxury I cannot afford, and certainly a weakness I have no place displaying in front of my men. With a deep breath, I steel myself once more, squaring my shoulders.

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