Page 58 of Mafia Kingdom

"...shipment arrives next Tuesday," Lucas is saying as I get close enough to hear. "Walsh security will be focused on the south side. You'll have a clean shot at the north entrance."

"And your father?" a voice responds—unfamiliar, with a subtle accent I can't quite place. "He still suspects nothing?"

Lucas laughs, the sound echoing off the high ceiling. "The old man's losing his grip. Too focused on Marco to see what's happening under his nose."

"Speaking of your brother," the accented voice continues, "my employers are concerned. He's becoming…problematic."

"Marco's distracted," Lucas dismisses. "The girl has him wrapped around her finger. He's not thinking clearly."

"Still, perhaps we should accelerate our timeline. After today's display..."

I edge closer, peering around a stack of crates. Lucas stands with his back to me, facing two men. One I recognize as a high-ranking member of the Black Crew. The other is unfamiliar—tall, lean, with the cold precision of someone used to giving orders rather than taking them. This must be the syndicate representative Mikey mentioned.

"Marco's predictable," Lucas says confidently. "He'll follow the breadcrumbs we've left, focus on the decoy shipment. By the time he realizes what's happening, it'll be too late."

"And if he doesn't?" the syndicate man asks.

Lucas shrugs. "I’ll deal with Marco."

Deal with me? It sounds like kill me.

I've heard enough. Silently, I retreat, planning to confront Lucas when he's alone. The syndicate man is an unknown variable, potentially too dangerous to engage directly without backup.

I don't have to wait long. The meeting concludes twenty minutes later, with handshakes and promises of future communication. The Black Crew member and the syndicate representative leave together, climbing into a sleek black Audi that purrs away into the rainy afternoon.

Lucas remains behind, making a phone call as he walks slowly toward his car. I step out from between two containers, blocking his path.

His reaction tells me everything I need to know about his guilt. No surprise, no confusion—just a resignation that settles across his features as he pockets his phone.

"Took you long enough to show up, brother," he says, his tone almost conversational.

"I wanted to give you the chance to bury Danny before I confronted you again," I reply, keeping my voice steady despite the rage simmering beneath the surface.

Lucas smirks, running a hand through his rain-dampened hair. "Always so sentimental. That's your weakness, Marco. Always has been."

"Loyalty isn't weakness," I counter, moving closer. "But you wouldn't understand that concept, would you?"

"Loyalty?" He laughs, the sound bitter and hollow. "You have none.”

We're circling each other now, predators assessing strengths and weaknesses, looking for an opening.

"You sold out Danny," I say, watching his reaction carefully. "Your own brother."

A flash of something—regret, perhaps?—crosses his face before his expression hardens again. "Danny was collateral damage. I already told you that. It was necessary."

"Necessary for what? Your power grab? Your deal with the syndicate?"

Lucas stops pacing, fixing me with a calculating stare. "This is bigger than you understand, Marco. The syndicate has connections across Europe, product lines we've never touched. This is evolution—the future of our family's business."

"There is no future where you betray your own blood and live to enjoy the rewards," I say coldly.

He sighs theatrically. "I was hoping you might still join me. We could rule together, Marco. Push the old man into retirement, modernize our operations. The Walsh brothers, stronger than ever."

The offer hangs between us, rain drumming on the metal roof above. For a fraction of a second, I see the path he's offering—a world where my hands aren't stained with my brother's blood. But it's an illusion, a mirage that evaporates as quickly as it formed.

"If I say no you will kill me," I say flatly.

His expression shifts, “then don’t say no.”

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