The Don leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he studied me. His office was quiet, save for the faint crackle of a cigar burning in the ashtray. I’d been here before—too many times to count—but something about this meeting felt different. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t tense. If anything, he seemed calm, almost thoughtful.
That was never a good sign.
“You’ve proven yourself, Leo,” he said finally, his voice low and deliberate. “Time and time again, you’ve done what needed to be done.”
I nodded once, keeping my expression neutral. Compliments from the Don weren’t handed out freely, and they always came with strings attached.
“There’s one last task I need you to handle,” he continued, sliding a photograph across the desk toward me. “Something… delicate.”
I picked up the photo, m
