The leader—Danny something—stepped forward. "Look, Mr. Accardi, about the payment. We're a bit short this month. There were some unexpected expenses, supply chain issues, you know how it is—"
"How short?"
"About thirty percent. But we'll have it next week, I swear on my mother's grave. We just need a little more time to—"
"You needed more time last month too. And the month before that." I tilted my head slightly. "It's almost like you think our agreement is optional. Like you think I won't notice when you skim from my shipments."
His face went gray. "We weren't—I mean, there's been legitimate problems with—"
"Where's the money, Danny?"
"We don't have all of it right now, but I promise—"
I pulled my gun in one smooth motion. The dealers' eyes went wide.
"Wait, please, we can explain—"
I shot Danny in the leg.
The sound echoed through the warehouse like a thunderclap. Danny went down screaming, clutching his thigh where blood was already soaking through his jeans. His friends started yelling, panicking, backing away.
I kept my gun trained on Danny's head. My voice didn't change at all—same pleasant, conversational tone.
"I'm going to ask one more time. Where's the money?"
"It's here! It's all here!" The younger one was already scrambling to a corner, pulling up loose floorboards, dragging out bundles of cash. "We were just trying to make a little extra, that's all! We have everything you're owed, I swear!"
The money came out in stacks. All of it. Everything they owed plus what they'd tried to steal.
I looked at the cash, then back at Danny who was still whimpering on the ground.
"Next time you even think about stealing from the Accardi family, the bullet goes in your head instead of your leg. Are we clear?"
"Yes! Yes, crystal clear! We're sorry, Mr. Accardi, it won't happen again—"
"It better not." I holstered my gun, took the duffel bag Marco held out. "Clean him up. Get him to a doctor. And spread the word—this is what happens when you try to fuck with us."
I walked out, Danny's screams still echoing behind me. Blood spatter decorated my shirt, my hands. Some had hit my face.
I got in the car. Aria was pressed against the opposite door, staring at me with pure horror.
The drive back was silent for the first twenty minutes. I could feel her shaking beside me, could see her trying not to look at the blood.
Finally, she spoke. Her voice was barely a whisper.
"How can you do that? Hurt someone so casually, like it doesn't mean anything?"
I looked at her. Really looked at her. Saw the girl from the club who'd been so full of hope. And saw that hope dying in real time.
It hurt more than I'd expected.
"This is my world, Aria. This is what I do. Violence, consequences, sending messages—it's all part of the business. It's not something you can avoid or ignore in this family. It's fundamental to survival."
"I'm not trying to be in this family. I'm being forced into it."
"Exactly." I leaned closer, lowered my voice. "That's exactly why you needed to see this. My father? He would have killed all three of those men. Would have made it slow, made them suffer, made sure everyone heard their screams. I let them live. That's the difference between him and me. But make no mistake—I'm still capable of killing when necessary. Still willing to do whatever it takes to protect what's mine."
She turned away, tears sliding down her face.
