Page 20 of Claimed By the Ruthless King

“We always have fucking enemies.”

“Enemies are usually harmless, but the Crows could be a threat.”

“The Crows were a bunch of worthless lost boys.”

I clench my jaw, focusing on business. “Yes, and those lost boys are now powerful men.”

“Way to shit on the don,” sidenotes one of the men at the far end of the table, elbowing his friend. “Matteo was a Crow.”

“As was Robert,” I add, signaling across the table.

The younger man’s face turns, flicking his gaze between each of us in concern.

“Somebody wants to reestablish the Crows, to make the organization powerful again,” I say.

“All due respect, Don, why does this concern us?”

“Moretti Global is the biggest investment firm in the entire East Coast,” explains Robert, sensing I’m slowly losing the will to live with these questions. “If someone leaks Matteo’s previous involvement with the Crows, his rags to riches story will be exposed and people will learn how he truly built his success,” he explains. “Secrets are easy to hide when there are no cracks. As soon as one forms, we’re already past the point of no return as more cracks form, causing a chain reaction, more leaks, more secrets revealed, until we’re left without a pot to piss in.”

“We must act ahead of ourselves,” I say. “And we’ll start by dismantling the person who wants to make the Crows powerful again.”

“You think this person will take you down in the process?”

“I know how the Crows operate, how they use boys as weapons, capitalizing on their hardship and manipulating it into resentment.”

“Shit, Salvatore,” exclaims one of my men.

“You killed someone when you were working for the Crows,” states one of the men.

“I have killed many while working for the organization, too many to count. Among them was someone in power, a biased politician in immigrant affairs.”

“Richard Campbell? He reportedly died of a heart attack twenty-five years ago, according to the coroner who assessed his dead body.”

“Like I said, gents, the Crows' influence in this city should not be underestimated.”

“And these new recruits are targeting the Morettis?”

“They will be, if not already,” I say, pinning Robert a look in regard to his earlier comment. “Two different forms of power cannot exist in the same city.”

“They can if they come to a truce.”

“Impossible,” I respond. “We’re not laying our weapons down for the Crows.”

“I think you misunderstood me,” says the man. “Perhaps a Crow-Moretti collaboration could be on the cards.”

“For a while, until the Crows use our loyalty, stealing our cards for their own benefit, becoming even more powerful.” I finish the wine and rise from behind the table. “These young boys hold a lot of hatred toward people like me. We need to strike before this mystery bastard finds himself an army. We’ll find out who this man is and eliminate him immediately. In the meantime, if you hear any employees discussing anything mafia related, shut it down immediately and report them to me. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Yes, sir,” says some of the men, finishing off their wine and rising from the table.

“Our regular business will still continue,” I add, wrapping up the meeting.

I crack open the front door, seeing my gentlemen out. Shutting the door behind them, I see Robert pinning me a glare across the room, sipping the last of his wine.

“Ophelia has seen your tattoo,” he points out.

“Many women have seen my tattoo.”

Robert is still unconvinced, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he places the wine glass down on the table, grabbing his suit jacket from the couch. “Ophelia is not like most women, and you know it, which is why you chose to cross a boundary and sleep with your executive assistant."