I nod, my mind already working through the implications. If the Rossi family thinks they can operate in our territory withoutconsequences, others will follow. It's like blood in the water—one sign of weakness and every shark in the city will come circling.
"What else?"
Romeo taps the second circle. "Three businesses on Fifth Avenue haven't paid their protection money this month. When our collectors went to pick it up, they were told that maybe they should be paying the Benedetti family instead. That maybe the Benedettis are better positioned to actually provide protection."
The Benedetti family is one of the older operations. They’ve been around since the fifties, with connections that run deep into the NYPD and the unions. They've always been ambitious, looking for ways to expand their influence. And now they're testing us, seeing if we're weak enough to push.
"And the third?" I ask.
"That one's worse." Romeo's expression darkens. "Vincent Calabrese—one of our capos, been with the family for fifteen years—held a meeting with some of his crew last night. He didn't tell me about it. Didn't clear it with Dante. Just gathered his people and started talking about whether the family is still strong enough to maintain our current position."
A capo questioning the don's authority. That's a potential fracture that could split the entire organization if it's not handled immediately and decisively. "Does Dante know?"
"He knows. And he's furious." Romeo straightens, his eyes meeting mine. "He wants this contained. All of it. Before the wedding, before anyone else gets the idea that we're vulnerable."
"What does he want me to do?"
"Whatever it takes." Romeo's voice drops. "You're my second, Luca. You're the one I trust to handle situations that require a certain... level of persuasion. So I'm giving you carte blanche. Handle the Rossi situation. Handle the protection money situation. And handle Vincent Calabrese."
The weight of it settles on my shoulders—heavy and familiar… and welcome. This is something I know how to do and that I'm good at—violence and intimidation, making people understand that there are consequences for disrespect. This is something that makes sense when nothing else in my life does.
"I'll need a crew.”
"Take whoever you need. Vitto and his people for the docks, Tony's crew for the protection collections. And for Vincent..." Romeo pauses, his expression grave. "For Vincent, I want you to handle it personally. Just you. No witnesses except the people who need to see what happens when you question the don's authority."
I nod. Vincent needs to be made an example of—not killed, necessarily, but broken enough that no one else will even think about following his lead. "When do you want this done?"
"Now. Today. Before the sun sets, I want everyone in this city to understand that the Ciresa family is not weak. That Dante Ciresa is still the most dangerous man in New York. And that anyone who thinks otherwise is going to learn a very painful lesson."
—
I start with the docks.Vitto meets me at the entrance to the shipping terminal at eight in the morning, along with four of his best men—all of them soldiers who've been with the family for years, all of them loyal and experienced and more than capable of handling themselves in a fight.
"The Rossi crew has been using Pier 7," Vitto says as we walk through the terminal, past shipping containers stacked three high and forklifts moving pallets of goods. "They've been bringing in product from overseas—heroin, mostly, somecocaine—and distributing it through our territory without paying the appropriate fees."
"How much product?"
"Best estimate? Maybe two million dollars' worth over the past month."
The number makes my jaw tighten. Two million dollars in product moving through our docks, and we haven't seen a single cent of it. That goes beyond disrespect—it’s theft on a massive scale. "How many of them are there?"
"Usually four or five guys. They come in around nine, unload the containers, and have the product moved out by noon." Vitto checks his watch. "Should be here any minute."
We position ourselves near Pier 7, out of sight behind a stack of containers, and wait. The morning is cold, the wind coming off the water sharp enough to cut through my jacket, but I barely feel it. My focus is absolute, my mind clear in a way it hasn't been since that terrible night when Giulia told me the truth. This is what I need. This is what I'm good at.
At nine-fifteen, a black van pulls up to Pier 7. Five men get out, wearing casual clothing meant to make them blend in. They move with the confidence of people who think they're untouchable, who think they can operate in Ciresa territory without consequences.
They're about to learn otherwise.
I wait until they've opened the back of the van and started unloading boxes before I step out from behind the containers, Vitto and his crew flanking me on both sides.
"Gentlemen," I say, my voice carrying across the pier. "I think you're lost."
They freeze, their hands still on the boxes, their eyes going wide as they recognize who I am. One of them—a stocky guy with a shaved head and a scar running down his left cheek—recovers first.
"We're not lost," he says, trying to sound confident but not quite managing it. "We're conducting business."
"In Ciresa territory. Without permission. Without paying the appropriate fees." I take a step closer, and I can see the way his hand moves toward his waistband, toward the gun I know he's carrying. "That's not what we call business. We call it theft."
