Michael.
All the men in the Allied Faction are here in the meeting room, sitting quietly, but their expressions tell a different story.
They're worried. Nervous. Embittered. Even angry.
Their gazes turn to me the moment I walk in, letting the door fall closed behind me.
There are about twenty Pakhans and Dons of different mafia clans here, and they nod in acknowledgement at me.
Antonio is crouched over the table, his fists dipped into the polished wood, peering up at me from over his lashes.
Just the sight of him makes my anger resurface.
I don't think twice, I just act on impulse as I storm into his space and send my fist over his jaw. The sickening crunch of bones sends a ripple of satisfaction through me.
Antonio staggers, cursing as he clamps his bruised jaw.
The othe
