Grabbing my jacket, I stride into the living room where Carmela is reading.
“We have a situation,” I say, my voice clipped. “The Morettis hit one of our shipments in Miami. Two men dead, product gone, and they left their family crest spray-painted all over the crime scene.”
Her eyes widen, the book forgotten in her lap. “They wanted you to know it was them.”
“Exactly.” I run a hand through my hair. “It’s a declaration of war. Nico’s making a play for our Miami territory.”
The resolve in her gaze steadies me. She’s in this with me, no matter what. “What are you going to do?”
“I need to fly to Miami, handle this personally. Our operations there are under threat, and I need to stabilize the situation before we lose more ground.”
Carmela stands, crossing to me. “How long will you be gone?”
“Three, maybe four days.” I pull her close. “I need to meet with Lorenzo, assess the damage, and make sure the Morettis understand there will be consequences.”
She nods, her jaw set with determination I’ve come to admire. “Then go. Do what needs to be done.”
“I’m calling a meeting with my capos first,” I tell her. “We need to strategize our response. Then I’ll arrange the flight.”
Carmela cups my face in her hands. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. I need you to come back to me.”
The vulnerability in her voice nearly breaks me. “Always,” I vow.
Leaning down, I kiss her fiercely. “Stay here. I’ll have extra security posted while I’m gone.”
With one last lingering look, I turn and head out, my mind already plotting. The Morettis have awoken a beast, and they’ll soon realize the grave mistake they’ve made.
I slide into the driver’s seat of my sleek black Ferrari, the leather cool against my skin. Gripping the steering wheel, I take a deep breath, trying to channel the rage into focus.
As I navigate the busy streets of Philadelphia, my mind keeps returning to those spray-painted crests. The Morettis could have just taken the shipment and disappeared. Instead, they made it a spectacle—a public humiliation designed to make us look weak.
I pull up to our headquarters, a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of the city. My men are already gathered inside, their faces grim. As I stride into the room, all eyes turn to me, waiting for direction.
“Gentlemen,” I begin, my voice cutting through the tension. “The Morettis have made their move. They hit our Miami shipment, killed two of our men, and made off with three hundred keys of product.” I pause, letting that sink in. “But that’s not all. They left their family crest spray-painted all over the warehouse—on the walls, the doors, our trucks. They wanted everyone to know it was them.”
Angry mutters ripple through the room. The disrespect of it—the sheer arrogance—has every man in here ready for blood.
“This is a declaration of war,” I continue, my voice hard. “The Morettis think they can intimidate us, humiliate us publicly, but they’ve made a grave mistake. I’m flying to Miami today to personally oversee our response. We’ll retaliate, and we’ll do it in a way that leaves no doubt about our power.”
I point to the map spread across the table. “Lorenzo reports they’re making moves on our other Miami operations—our clubs, our distribution network, even approaching our suppliers. We need to shut this down before we lose the entire territory.”
Sal, one of my most experienced soldiers, speaks up. “What do you need from us, boss?”
“Reinforce our positions here in Philly while I’m gone. Double security on all our key operations. The Morettis might try to hit us here while I’m distracted in Miami.” I scan the room. “And I want to know how they got that shipment schedule. Someone talked, and I want to know who.”
I turn to Leo, one of my most trusted men. “Leo, you’re in charge of security at the house while I’m gone. My wife doesn’t leave the property without an armed escort. Post men at every entrance, rotate shifts so no one gets complacent.”
Leo straightens. “Understood, boss. The house will be locked down tight.”
“Fed will coordinate operations here with our father,” I continue, gesturing to my brother. “Any major decisions need approval from both of them. And remember—we’re smart about this. No unnecessary risks. We hit them hard, but we do it cleanly.”
As the meeting concludes, the men file out, their expressions determined. This is what the De Luca family does—we stand together, we protect our own, and we never back down.
I pull Fed aside as the room empties. “You’re staying at the house with Carmela while I’m gone. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
Fed’s usual playfulness evaporates. “You think they might make a move on her?”
“The Morettis left those crests as a message—they want me to know they can strike at will.” My jaw tightens. “If they’re bold enough to hit our Miami operation, they might be bold enough to go after my wife. I need you there, Fed. You and Leo.”
