Domenico's POV
By the time Umberto pulled up in front of Il Ritrovo, the night was already in full swing.
The place looked like any other old bar from the outside—dim lights, worn wood, and a sign that had survived more years than most of the men who walked through its doors.
But Il Ritrovo wasn't just a bar.
It had been there long before my father, long before most of the men inside it now. It had seen decades of deals, shifting power, and blood that never made it past its walls.
To outsiders, it was just a place for drinks. To us, it was where Made men came when something needed to be said without being heard.
Matteo stepped out first, followed by Dante—one of the few men I trusted to keep things steady in my absence. I stepped out after them without a word, adjusting the cuff o
