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“You came here under your own illusion that you had found our compound and could sabotage it. You merely did not anticipate that I am, and always will be, better at your game.” Il Diavolo rises finally to full height, his arms behind his back. The blood-red devil mask looks as fearsome as ever paired with his all-black suit. “You have two options. You lay down your weapon. You agree to my terms and conditions. Then you leave and make sure your boss understands the rules from here on out. Or you continue to defy me, and you suffer my wrath. Make your decision quickly. I have run out of patience.”

I can practically see the beads of sweat roll down the sides of Sergio’s face. He quakes out a rough breath, then slightly lowers his gun.

“I can’t guarantee what Titus will do,” he says uneasily. “But… but I can relay your message. I can let him know your demands.”

“You let him know he has twenty-four hours to make it happen. If he doesn’t, it will be war.”

“Alright. Alright! I’ll make sure Titus understands.”

“Good. Now take him and his men away.”

Il Diavolo’s men crowd around Sergio’s, pointing their guns in their faces.

Sergio hesitates a moment longer, then reluctantly motions his head, gesturing at his crew to relent and lower their weapons to the ground.

“Ma prima,” says Il Diavolo suddenly, switching to Italian. “Per essere sicuri che tu abbia capito.”

Il Diavolo raises a gun he’s retrieved from inside his suit jacket. He points it right at Sergio and pulls the trigger, shooting him in the shoulder.

The bang rings out through the open space of the warehouse, quickly followed by Sergio’s grunt as he buckles to his knees.

“Questo è un avvertimento. Vi riempirò di altri buchi di proiettile se le mie richieste non saranno soddisfatte. Tutti voi.”

I stand by and watch as Sergio and his men are marched out of the warehouse. Sergio leaves droplets of blood everywhere he steps, clutching his right shoulder with his left hand. His face is screwed up in a grimace of pain.

But even as Sergio and his men do the walk of shame out of the warehouse, there’s still more acting to be done.

Portia’s still lurking. She’s watching from her hiding spot.

Il Diavolo shifts his attention onto me.

“And you,” he says, “you make sure to follow what you have been told. If you continue doing business with my enemy, then you are my enemy. Take him away.”

The same two men who’ve been guarding me grab me by the arms and lead me toward the exit.

We carry on the role play ’til I’m finally back at my Audi, sliding inside the backseat, shielded by the tinted windows. Adagio waits behind the steering wheel. Our gazes meet in the rear view mirror.

“All good?” he asks.

I nod. “Drive. It all went off without a hitch. Sergio will relay the message to Tuco. Either he agrees, or it’s war. The rest was flawless.”

Adagio grins. “So now they know you’re not Il Diavolo.”

“The Tucos and Portia.”

“And what of yourdolcezza?” he teases. “She still in the warehouse?”

“She’ll be sneaking out any second. I told Gavino to tail her. Make sure she gets home safely.”

My phone pings only a few seconds later. It’s a text from Gavino telling me what I’ve anticipated would happen is in motion. Portia has snuck out of the warehouse the way she came and called a taxi to come pick her up.

I release a sigh of relief.

Though my plan was solid, there were still many ways it could’ve gone wrong. That it went off without a hitch is enough to relax me for the night.

Il Diavolo will strategize about what comes next tomorrow. If Titus and his family will choose to bow to the demands or if they still want to fight. Either choice they make is fine with me.

I’ll always come out on top in the end.