(Luca)
Power doesn’t come from a crown.
It comes from fear.
It comes from the moment a man realizes his life hangs on the edge of your fingertips… and you don’t even flinch.
The warehouse was silent except for the dripping of water somewhere in the darkness and the uneven breathing of the man tied to the chair in front of me. His name was Stefano — a rat from the Bianchi famiglia who thought he could steal weapons from my docks and sell them back to my enemies.
He wasn’t the first man who tried it.
But he’d be the last this month.
Vincenzo stood at my right, arms folded, face carved from stone. He wasn’t angry — if anything, he was bored. My second-in-command only stepped in when I gave the order. Until then, he watched.
Alessio stood at the left, gun already drawn, waiting.
My me
