Vows and Vendettas

Dante The air in the warehouse is warm with a hint of salt coming off the bay nearby as the tide rolls in. The single yellow bulb that hangs overhead casts a pale glow over the stained concrete floor. The man who is currently slumped over, with his hands zip-tied to the chair, is about three seconds from meeting his maker if he doesn't give me the information that I want. My shoes echo through the warehouse, sound bouncing off of the remaining sheet metal walls. Several of my captains have gathered to watch the show. Normally, I wouldn't bother with something like this. My men are perfectly capable of handling the situation at hand. But this time it was different. I have let the petty dealings go on long enough. And now I’ve been pushed over the edge. Langston has a long history of being run by influential mob families. Some have been here since the beginning, and others have tried to make a name for themselves only to fizzle out soon after. Everyone knows the rules, though. We all agree to stay out of each other's business, and they pay their tribute fee; everything runs smoothly. But lately things haven't been running smoothly, and I am f*cking over it. I want answers, and by God, I am going to get them. Tonight. Rearing back, I let my fist slam into the side of the man's jaw. His head lolls to the side, blood dripping from his nose and mouth before soaking into his torn shirt. He groans as he tries to lift his head again; he spits out a mouthful of blood and possibly a tooth…or two. Gripping his chin between my thumb and forefinger, I forced him to look the monster in the eye. “Who the f*ck has been attacking my damn shipments?” I snarl inches from his face. The shipment he and his friends had been attempting to hijack might have been fake, but the bullets that tore through their bodies had been all too real. Unfortunately for him, he was the not-so-lucky one this evening. The last man alive...for the time being, that is. He lifts his swollen and bloodied face at me and smiles. What teeth he still had left were coated in blood. “I ain’t telling you sh*t, Lazzari.” “Well, that's unfortunate…for you,” I grind out through clenched teeth as I hit him again. We've been at this for hours, and the goon has barely said a word. I will give him this; he is a tough son of a b*tch to hold out this long, but one way or another, I will find out who has been attacking my shipments. My other hand connects with his abdomen suddenly. He grunts and tries to lean forward, but the restraints won't allow him to get very far. He heaves a shaky breath back into his lungs, his head hanging low now in front of him. “Let’s try this one…more…time.” I hit him again. This time a little higher in the chest, and I hear the satisfying crack of bone. A rib, more than likely. “Who sent you for the shipment?” I backed away and began to circle him. I’ve lost nearly a million dollars in product in the past month alone. The shipments are being jacked as soon as they hit the dock, and I’ve already lost one man. The hysterical laughter that comes from him is not what I was expecting, and I share a look with my two enforcers. Cass draws his brows together and folds his hands across his chest. Rocco just looks unamused as normal. “You think you're so powerful, Lazzari," he grumbles, spitting out another mouthful of blood. "But you aren’t. He is coming for you, and you are going to lose everything. “Non sarai niente quando tutto questo sarà finito.” You won’t be anything when all this is over. I feel my lips twitch, and for a second, the look in the man's eyes flickers. His bravado slips, and the fear shines through. “Such a big threat coming from a dead man.” He swallows hard. Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He tugs at the ties holding him, testing for weakness. There isn't any, but he can try all he wants. Those ties would cut through his skin and down to the bone, and they still wouldn't break. “Voss is going to eat you alive,” the bloody man snaps. Voss? As in Luca f*cking Voss? That i***t thinks he can touch my city? I scoff. “Voss doesn't have the resources, let alone the support needed to take on the Lazzari family.” Luca Voss has been a thorn in my side for the past three years. His father died suddenly, and Luca took over with the delusional hope that he would increase his foothold in Langston. Riverside wasn't nearly as profitable as the rest of the city, but he had been trying to change that. His crew ran a few nightclubs in the area, but they never attracted the right crowd. Fights were always breaking out, and the police spent more time inside his clubs than actual patrons. How he has managed to still fly under their radar for this long is remarkable. It was still a dump, and that wasn't changing any time soon. “Maybe not right now. But soon…soon he will have half this city.” His grin is malevolent. “And even the great Dante Lazzari won't be able to stop him.” Reaching behind me, my palm finds the cool metal at my back. The man's eyes widen when the barrel of my gun appears in front of him. For some reason, they never think that they'll end up like the others. But they eventually all do. “We will just have to agree to disagree on that.” I am done here. My finger pulls the trigger, and a loud bang echoes through the empty warehouse. His body slumps in the chair as the coppery scent of blood and gunpowder fills the air. Blood sprays across my face and chest, drops of crimson bleeding into the white fabric. Well, that is unfortunate. “You think anything he said was true, Boss?” Rocco asks. “It wouldn't be that much of a shock. Luca is a dimwit who thinks he is more powerful than he really is. Been overstepping for a while now. I should have done something about him a long time ago.” Stepping away from the body, I pull at the hem of my shirt. Tugging it free from my pants. “But how is he supposed to acquire half the city?” Cass drawls, his brows pulled tight in thought. That's a very good question. The Voss family has tried and failed to encroach on several other neighborhoods of Langston for years. Unfortunately, they never had the influence or the money to make a move that actually played out in their favor. Riverside was their territory, and it was all Luca Voss would ever control. But now it’s looking more and more like he won't even have that. “Clean this up,” I ordered. “And make sure that there are extra guys on the next real shipment.” Cass nods, but I can see the question burning behind his eyes. Retaliation. It's what is expected after something like this, and Luca is going to face the consequences of his actions…soon. Real soon. My body is practically buzzing with the need to shed blood as I return to my car. Preferably, the blood of one Luca Voss. Everyone in my organization will be waiting for me to give the order. To take him out on sight. But I’ve come up with something better to destroy him. Something that will crush his entire empire before it even has a chance to take root. The city passes by my windows as the car moves through the narrow streets of the Old Town. Langston is awake tonight — more awake than usual. People crowd the sidewalks, spilling out of bars and late-night cafés, their laughter echoing off the old brick buildings that fill this part of Langston. The massive cathedral sits on the corner ahead, its stained-glass windows glowing like a beacon of salvation for the people who still believe in that sort of thing. We roll past it, and the bells chime the hour. A reminder that time is already running out for Luca Voss. Waiting until the morning wasn't an option. The old newspaper banner from months ago declaring the impending marriage of one Blair Moretti to Luca Voss stares at me from the seat next to me. Seeing it now makes everything start to click into place. I knew this was what his goon meant. How Voss intended to gain power. Luca wasn't planning on waging an outright war; no, he was going to marry into a family with better ties so he could gain the power he thought was his. Idiota del cavolo. f*****g i***t. It doesn't take long before Old Town begins to bleed into the Moretti-controlled Blackwell District, and the shift is immediate. The glitz and glamor of neon lights flicker against the dark pavement, casinos hum with life, and the Moretti empire shows off its wealth in every polished marble facade. Men in suits smoke outside high-end clubs, watching my car glide by with a mix of respect and fear. They know who's inside. The streets begin to widen as we climb toward Bellmont Heights. The Moretti family seat. The noise slowly begins to fade, and the chaos dims. Here, expensive cars line the driveways of gated estates, with manicured hedges that hide the sins of old-money families. This part of Langston sleeps peacefully — because men like me make sure that it can. Not the cops. Not the government officials. I do. My fingers drum against my thigh, the rage inside me still simmering low, just waiting for a reason to erupt. Luca thought he was clever. Clever men often forgot they still had to survive long enough to enjoy their victories. The glittering Moretti estate rises at the other end of the street. It sits high on a hill, the kind of place built long before Langston became a city worth fighting over. The driveway winds its way upward in a slow, elegant curve toward a guardhouse and a locked iron gate. Warm lights glow from inside the booth, casting long shadows across the cobblestone path. My car rolls forward before stopping in front of the guardhouse. A man who looks to be in his thirties or forties steps out, hand already resting on the pistol holstered to his hip. I press the button on my door, and the window rolls down silently. “Mr. Lazzari,” he nods as soon as he recognizes me. Nodding, he steps back just enough to reach inside the shack and presses a button. The iron gate shifts, then opens. I put my window back up as my car rolls forward up the rest of the driveway. Past the carefully maintained lawn and shrubs. Belmont Heights is so peaceful that it almost feels insulting for what I am about to offer its leader. Lanterns line the driveway, flickering like they’re welcoming me home. They aren’t. The estate itself comes into view as we crest the hill — a sprawling Mediterranean-style manor with pale stucco walls and a terracotta roof. Tall arched windows glow from within, warm and golden. Ivy vines climb across the outer walls in neat, controlled patterns. A fountain sits in the center of the circular drive, water whispering over marble carved decades ago. The Moretti family doesn't flaunt their power — they preserve it. The night air is cooler up here, quieter too. Salvatore Moretti already stands at the top of the stairs like he’s been waiting for me with his hands clasped behind his back, expression carved from stone. “I’m not sure if I should be concerned that you asked for a meeting when I am in the middle of dinner or if I ought to just shoot you and have my men get rid of the body,” Moretti grumbles under his breath when I step out. I c*ck a brow at him and raise my hand at my side. His eyes follow the movement; the guards that are standing on either side of him instantly go for their own weapons, only to freeze a second later. Little red dots bloom across the center of not only their chest but Moretti's as well. “Too bad you wouldn’t get the chance, Vecchio amico.” Old friend. Moretti's face pulls tight in a grimace. He raises his hands, palms facing outward. “Truce?” I could take him out now if I really wanted to. Just a simple flip of my wrist, and they would all be bleeding out at my feet a heartbeat later. It would be so simple. And then Luca wouldn't be a problem either, because all of this…would be mine. But simple isn’t always smart in my world. And I don’t make stupid moves. I let my hand fall, and the red laser dots disappear. “Smart man.” Salvatore Moretti grunts as he runs a hand through his silver-streaked hair. "What is it that required a meeting so late?" I let my gaze drift over the man in front of me, a small grin shaping my mouth. "I have a proposition for you."