Beneath the empire

Saint Gabriel had always been a city of contrasts, a sprawling urban jungle where wealth and poverty stood side by side. Towering skyscrapers gleamed in the daylight, casting long shadows over the crumbling alleyways below. The streets hummed with life, with the constant pulse of the underworld seeping through the cracks. This was a city that never slept, and at its heart, two families controlled everything: the DeMarcos and the Russos. The DeMarco family ruled the south side with a cold, calculated grip, their power woven into every corner of the city’s infrastructure. The Russos dominated the north side, where shadows ran deeper, and their influence was felt in every illegal deal, every whispered transaction. For generations, the two families had been locked in a bitter feud, their rivalry as ingrained in the city’s blood as the pavement itself. Lia DeMarco stood on the balcony of the DeMarco family penthouse, looking down at the city below. The night sky was an expanse of deep black, the lights of Saint Gabriel twinkling like stars caught in the web of her father’s empire. She always thought of the city as her chessboard, every move calculated, every outcome anticipated. But tonight, the air felt heavier, as though the city itself was holding its breath. Her reflection in the glass was a sharp contrast to the city’s chaotic beauty. Lia was every bit her father’s daughter: poised, calculating, with the same raven-black hair and piercing green eyes that could make even the most hardened criminals flinch under her gaze. She had been raised for this, the cold, unyielding world of crime, where power meant everything, and weakness was a luxury no one could afford. She turned as the door to the penthouse opened, and her father stepped inside. Salvatore DeMarco was a man whose mere presence commanded authority. His dark, angular face was hardened by years of ruthless decisions, and his eyes were always calculating, always looking for the next move. He was a man who had built an empire from the ground up, and he expected nothing less than perfection from his children. “Lia,” he said, his voice a low growl. “We’ve received word of trouble on the south side. The Russo family is making moves.” Lia didn’t flinch. Her eyes remained fixed on the city below as she replied with a coolness that mirrored her father’s demeanor. “It’s about time. They’ve been quiet for too long.” Salvatore’s eyes narrowed, a hint of approval hidden behind his usual stern expression. “You think this is a game?” “No,” she said, her voice steady. “But it’s about time we remind them who controls this city.” Her father studied her for a moment, assessing her words and her posture. There was a flicker of something in his gaze, something that might have been pride, but it was quickly masked by the implacable mask he wore. “We’ve had some trouble with their people lately,” he continued. “A few deals have gone sour. I don’t want to take chances. Get the team together. We need to send a message.” Lia nodded, a sense of determination settling over her. This was what she had been trained for, what she had been raised to do. Her father had always told her that the DeMarcos were more than just a family; they were a legacy. A legacy that she was meant to carry forward. “I’ll handle it,” she said, her voice unshaken. She turned to leave the room, but before she could take another step, Salvatore spoke again. “You’re not a child anymore, Lia. I expect results. We’ve already lost too much to the Russos. I need you to be ruthless.” Lia’s lips curled into a cold smile. She had been ruthless long before her father had ever given her permission to be. She was the one who had built a reputation as a woman who never hesitated to make the hard choices. If there was one thing the city had taught her, it was that weakness would get you killed, and mercy was for the naive. “I’ll make sure they remember who they’re dealing with,” she replied, her tone unwavering. As she stepped out of the penthouse, the weight of her father’s expectations settled on her shoulders. The DeMarco empire was vast, but it was fragile. One wrong move and everything could come crashing down. The Russo family was the biggest threat to that empire. On the other side of the city, Dominic Russo was in his penthouse, staring at the skyline of Saint Gabriel from his window. Unlike Lia, who had been groomed to take control of the DeMarco empire, Dominic had always been a wildcard, fiercely loyal to his father but with a restless energy that seemed to hum beneath his skin. He had inherited his father’s sharp features, dark eyes, chiseled jawline, and the same intensity that could make people around him uncomfortable. Dominic was a man who didn’t speak much, preferring to let his actions do the talking. But when he did speak, his words carried weight, and those who knew him understood that crossing him was a dangerous game. His father, Vito Russo, was a man who saw everything as a negotiation, a deal to be struck, or a battle to be won. But unlike Salvatore DeMarco, Vito wasn’t interested in expanding the family’s influence into every corner of the city. He was content to rule his portion of Saint Gabriel and maintain power within it. But lately, Vito had been concerned. The DeMarcos were making a move, and that meant only one thing: it was time for the Russos to make their own. “The DeMarcos are getting bold,” Vito’s voice broke through Dominic’s thoughts, and he turned to face his father, who was sitting across the room in his favorite chair, a glass of bourbon in hand. “They’ve been quiet, but that’s about to change. I want you to handle this.” Dominic didn’t reply immediately. He knew exactly what his father was asking. For years, he had watched his father’s rivalry with Salvatore DeMarco shape their lives. He had seen how the feud had driven men to betrayal, to murder, and to ruin. But for Dominic, it was more than just a family rivalry. It was personal. The DeMarcos had taken from his family in ways he would never forgive. And now, it was time to take something back. “I’ll take care of it,” Dominic said, his voice calm but firm. Vito smiled, a slow, knowing smile. “Good. Don’t disappoint me, son. The city’s getting restless, and we need to remind everyone who’s in charge.” Dominic turned back to the window, looking out over the city. The DeMarcos had their eyes set on something, and it wouldn’t be long before they made their move. But he would be ready. After all, they weren’t just enemies; they were rivals, bloodlines that would never mix, no matter how much the city tried to force them together. As the night wore on, both families prepared for the inevitable. For Lia, it was another night spent securing her family’s power and navigating the treacherous waters of the mafia world. For Dominic, it was a reminder of the bitter history between their two families. And in the darkness of Saint Gabriel, the tension between the DeMarcos and the Russos only grew stronger, setting the stage for the next inevitable clash. But what neither Lia nor Dominic could have known was that their destinies were already intertwined in ways neither of them could foresee. Bloodlines, after all, didn’t just define their past; they would shape their future. The phone buzzed sharply on the marble countertop, its vibration breaking the silence of Lia’s office. She looked at it for a moment before slowly picking it up, her gaze unwavering. The name on the screen was familiar: Enzo. His reputation preceded him as one of her father’s trusted men. His words were often blunt, but Lia knew when he called, it was serious. Her thumb hovered over the screen as she answered. “DeMarco,” she said, her voice a low, authoritative tone, carefully composed despite the weight of the moment. “Boss,” Enzo’s voice crackled through the speaker, his words clipped, like a man who was already thinking ahead of the conversation. “It’s happening. The Russos are making a move. They’re at Club Mirage; they’re taking over our turf tonight. It’s all set. They're pushing hard, and I think they're trying to test us.” Lia’s body froze for a brief moment. Her grip on the phone tightened. Club Mirage was one of the crown jewels in the DeMarco empire, a well-established front for money laundering and the family's high-end dealings. The Russos had crossed a line. They knew the DeMarcos controlled the city's south side, and the one thing Salvatore DeMarco would never tolerate was a challenge to that control. Enzo’s words echoed in her mind as her eyes scanned the night scene outside her office window. “Test us” wasn’t half of it. The Russos had just made a declaration of war. Her father’s voice seemed to echo in her mind: Don’t ever show weakness. Never back down. Lia stood up from her desk, her eyes never leaving the city below, her thoughts racing through the strategic possibilities. “Get our people on it,” she ordered, her voice calm yet tinged with an edge. “No mistakes. They don’t leave that club standing. We don’t let them think they can just waltz in and take what’s ours.” Enzo’s voice on the other end was steady, understanding the gravity of the situation. “Understood. We’ll be there in fifteen.” Lia ended the call swiftly and set the phone down on the desk with a quiet finality. She could feel the weight of responsibility bearing down on her now more than ever. The city was hers to control, at least it would be. The DeMarcos hadn’t built this empire only for it to be torn down by the Russos or anyone else. Her fingers grazed the edge of the desk as she turned toward the door, grabbing her coat from the back of the chair. Her movements were deliberate and measured; her father had raised her to be this way. Everything had a purpose, and every action was calculated. She had learned from an early age that in this world, there was no room for hesitation. Meanwhile, at the Russo family penthouse, Dominic stood at the edge of the tall windows, staring out over the city that his family had fought for. Unlike Lia, who had grown up entrenched in her family’s crime operations, Dominic had always carried an unspoken restlessness, a thirst for something more than the routine, more than just being a cog in the family machine. He wasn’t sure what that was yet, but his instincts told him it was time for a change. The night was still, and the wind outside whispered against the windows as he stood, deep in thought. His father, Vito Russo, entered the room quietly, his presence commanding attention even without saying a word. His cold, calculating eyes scanned Dominic for any sign of hesitation, of weakness. “The DeMarcos are making their move,” Vito said as he took a seat across from Dominic. The air between them was thick, a silent history of tension, of power, and of the roles each had to play. “I know you’re planning something. Don’t underestimate them.” Dominic turned slowly from the window, his face unreadable. He wasn’t surprised to hear this. The DeMarcos had never been known to back down. But what mattered now was how to outmaneuver them. His father’s words were loaded, filled with unspoken expectations. Vito Russo had always seen everything as a game of chess. But Dominic wasn’t always interested in playing by his father’s rules. “I’m not underestimating anyone,” Dominic said evenly, his voice low but firm. “I’m just thinking it’s time we make a statement. Time we remind the DeMarcos that the city’s ours.”