't dream

oing in his ears. The scent of gunpowder clung to his skin,

ething-guilt, nausea, regret

oor pulled him f

e said, his

his sharp gaze sweeping over the untouched whiske

sleep," Ni

. "I don't t

rms crossed. "Good. That means you're s

d over his face. "What if

ion didn't change

without cruelty, but they s

ontinued. "They need to see that you're in control. That yo

"They don't wa

ed. "Then pro

nd left, leaving Luca

ng – The Gathe

of the city, surrounded by high walls and armed guards. It had been

elt like a

long oak table, their eyes sharp, their expressions unreadable. Men w

of the tab

poken reminder that he wasn't alon

Vito Carbone, his fathe

ith all due respect, Luca, we need a leader who can keep thi

ed. "And you don't

't hesita

d feel the weight of their scrutiny, the silent

her ruled with fear," he said, his voice calm. "And he died wit

le

ords settle be

om. "You want proof? Then test me. Challenge me. But understand this-if

ilence. The

cle, leaned back in his chair, nodding slightl

underestimating me, Uncle.

ndro raised his glas

r agreement. Some genuine. Some rel

s, the burn of whiskey s

. But the real game w