Page 29
Story: Mafia King's Forbidden Vows
“I don’t think so...” he taps his pen on the paper in front of him again, “They’re too small to stage something this clean. They wouldn’t want to be on our bad side.”
Cortez is right. I’m not on good terms with the families we’ve mentioned, but there’s no good enough reason for them to create the extent of damage my empire is at risk of facing right now.
“What about the Donatos?” My elbows take position opposite each other as my fingers entangle with each other. “They hold a deep resentment towards us. It could be that they’ve come back for their revenge.”
“You think it’s them?” I ask, leaning back in my chair. The leather creaks, a low groan piercing through the tension in the room.
“Actually I do.” His voice is gruff. “Think about it,Capo. We’ve burned a lot of bridges, but none as deep as the Donatos.”
The Donatos. The name alone stirs something in my chest, a mixture of satisfaction and unease. Years ago, I took everything from them. Their territory. Their power. Their pride.
They were the ruling family in New York, untouchable in their prime, but I had bigger plans. Our goods were being stalled because the Donatos controlled every port. Usurping control from them was non-negotiable.
I swirl the whiskey in my glass, watching the liquid whirl in tight circles. “Why now? Why wait so many years? If they wanted revenge, they had plenty of chances.”
“Maybe they’ve been biding their time,” Cortez says, his eyes narrowing. “Waiting for the right moment.”
“Or maybe they’re not behind this at all,” I counter, though the doubt in my voice betrays me. Deep down, I know he’s right. The Donatos have every reason to want us dead. I just can’t wrap my head around why they’d surface now, of all times.
Their leader’s still rotting in a cell, and their second-in-command…What was his name again? Marco? Monacco?
Cortez taps his pen against the table, his impatience increasing the pace of his speech to double the speed. “Capo, you didn’t just humiliate them. You dismantled them. You bought out their men and tripled their pay. You had their shipments seized, andtheir leader arrested. You made them a joke. If anyone’s got a grudge big enough to pull this kind of stunt, it’s them.”
The glass rests on the table with a soft clink, the brief sound punctuating the silence between us. Cortez is right. The Donatos are the only family with the resources and the motive to cause this much chaos. Still, something doesn’t sit right. Revenge is a dish best served cold, sure, but this is a hell of a long time to wait.
And did they really think the cops were the best option to retaliate if they wanted to?
I rise to my feet again, walking the length of the room. My boots thud against the worn hardwood floor, each step mirroring the storm in my mind.
The faint buzz of the city filters in through the closed windows, distant and muted. “What do we know about their second-in-command?” I ask, stopping near the window. The city lights glimmer faintly. “Their leader is still in prison, so he can’t be commandeering all of this alone.”
Cortez flips through his notes, the sound of paper rustling breaking the stillness. “Last we heard, he went underground after the bust. No sightings, no rumors. Nothing. It’s like he vanished.”
“And you didn’t think to keep tabs on him?” I snap, turning to face him. My voice is sharper than I intended, but the frustration bubbling inside me has nowhere else to go.
He doesn’t flinch, but his eyes dip in reverence. “You told me to focus on the leader. Said the second was irrelevant.”
Curses roll out from my tongue under my breath as my fingers run incessantly through my hair. I did say that. At the time, it made sense. Without their leader, the Donatos were a headless snake. I thought the rest would wither on their own. Clearly, I underestimated them.
“Find him,” I say, my tone leaving no room for argument. “I want every scrap of information on him. Where he’s been, who he’s talked to, what he’s had for breakfast. Everything.”
Cortez nods, his pen already moving across the paper. “And the others?”
“The others can wait,” I say, turning back to the window. Somewhere out there, someone is pulling strings, moving pieces on a board I can’t see. And if it is the Donatos, if their second-in-command has come back from the shadows, then I need to know what game they’re playing and how to stop them.
A few years ago, I thought I had won. But maybe all I did was light a fire that’s been smoldering ever since.
Good that I had theGuardiano(Guardian) on my team. He’s a top guy in the media who owes me for saving his life three years ago. If he hadn’t been swift enough to act, and curtail the news, we’d have been swimming in deep shit by now.
“Fuck!” Cortez hisses sharply, springing sharply to his feet.
As I turn around, I can see from his narrowed eyes on his phone and the creases all over his face that something is awfully wrong.
“What is it?” I ask, lowering myself back into the chair.
“Ahmed got into a fight with one of our men who was sent to get the fifty grand he owes us.” He does not meet my eyes as he speaks, meaning that it is even worse than he’s trying to portray.
“What the hell do you mean he got into a fight with him? Why the fuck do we have someone owing us fifty grand? Do we run a charity organization here?” I can feel a sense of heat as blood flushes over my face in anger.
Cortez is right. I’m not on good terms with the families we’ve mentioned, but there’s no good enough reason for them to create the extent of damage my empire is at risk of facing right now.
“What about the Donatos?” My elbows take position opposite each other as my fingers entangle with each other. “They hold a deep resentment towards us. It could be that they’ve come back for their revenge.”
“You think it’s them?” I ask, leaning back in my chair. The leather creaks, a low groan piercing through the tension in the room.
“Actually I do.” His voice is gruff. “Think about it,Capo. We’ve burned a lot of bridges, but none as deep as the Donatos.”
The Donatos. The name alone stirs something in my chest, a mixture of satisfaction and unease. Years ago, I took everything from them. Their territory. Their power. Their pride.
They were the ruling family in New York, untouchable in their prime, but I had bigger plans. Our goods were being stalled because the Donatos controlled every port. Usurping control from them was non-negotiable.
I swirl the whiskey in my glass, watching the liquid whirl in tight circles. “Why now? Why wait so many years? If they wanted revenge, they had plenty of chances.”
“Maybe they’ve been biding their time,” Cortez says, his eyes narrowing. “Waiting for the right moment.”
“Or maybe they’re not behind this at all,” I counter, though the doubt in my voice betrays me. Deep down, I know he’s right. The Donatos have every reason to want us dead. I just can’t wrap my head around why they’d surface now, of all times.
Their leader’s still rotting in a cell, and their second-in-command…What was his name again? Marco? Monacco?
Cortez taps his pen against the table, his impatience increasing the pace of his speech to double the speed. “Capo, you didn’t just humiliate them. You dismantled them. You bought out their men and tripled their pay. You had their shipments seized, andtheir leader arrested. You made them a joke. If anyone’s got a grudge big enough to pull this kind of stunt, it’s them.”
The glass rests on the table with a soft clink, the brief sound punctuating the silence between us. Cortez is right. The Donatos are the only family with the resources and the motive to cause this much chaos. Still, something doesn’t sit right. Revenge is a dish best served cold, sure, but this is a hell of a long time to wait.
And did they really think the cops were the best option to retaliate if they wanted to?
I rise to my feet again, walking the length of the room. My boots thud against the worn hardwood floor, each step mirroring the storm in my mind.
The faint buzz of the city filters in through the closed windows, distant and muted. “What do we know about their second-in-command?” I ask, stopping near the window. The city lights glimmer faintly. “Their leader is still in prison, so he can’t be commandeering all of this alone.”
Cortez flips through his notes, the sound of paper rustling breaking the stillness. “Last we heard, he went underground after the bust. No sightings, no rumors. Nothing. It’s like he vanished.”
“And you didn’t think to keep tabs on him?” I snap, turning to face him. My voice is sharper than I intended, but the frustration bubbling inside me has nowhere else to go.
He doesn’t flinch, but his eyes dip in reverence. “You told me to focus on the leader. Said the second was irrelevant.”
Curses roll out from my tongue under my breath as my fingers run incessantly through my hair. I did say that. At the time, it made sense. Without their leader, the Donatos were a headless snake. I thought the rest would wither on their own. Clearly, I underestimated them.
“Find him,” I say, my tone leaving no room for argument. “I want every scrap of information on him. Where he’s been, who he’s talked to, what he’s had for breakfast. Everything.”
Cortez nods, his pen already moving across the paper. “And the others?”
“The others can wait,” I say, turning back to the window. Somewhere out there, someone is pulling strings, moving pieces on a board I can’t see. And if it is the Donatos, if their second-in-command has come back from the shadows, then I need to know what game they’re playing and how to stop them.
A few years ago, I thought I had won. But maybe all I did was light a fire that’s been smoldering ever since.
Good that I had theGuardiano(Guardian) on my team. He’s a top guy in the media who owes me for saving his life three years ago. If he hadn’t been swift enough to act, and curtail the news, we’d have been swimming in deep shit by now.
“Fuck!” Cortez hisses sharply, springing sharply to his feet.
As I turn around, I can see from his narrowed eyes on his phone and the creases all over his face that something is awfully wrong.
“What is it?” I ask, lowering myself back into the chair.
“Ahmed got into a fight with one of our men who was sent to get the fifty grand he owes us.” He does not meet my eyes as he speaks, meaning that it is even worse than he’s trying to portray.
“What the hell do you mean he got into a fight with him? Why the fuck do we have someone owing us fifty grand? Do we run a charity organization here?” I can feel a sense of heat as blood flushes over my face in anger.
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