I drum my fingers against the leather upholstery as my driver weaves through Manhattan traffic, frustration simmering beneath my calm exterior.
Two days of unanswered calls. Two days of trying to handle things civilly. I offered Gianni Lombardi the chance to sit down and negotiate like men—keep blood off the streets.
He ignored me.
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders in an effort to calm down. The old me, the one I’ve spent years tempering, would’ve handled this with a single bullet. But Eva’s changed something in me. She makes me want to be better. She despises senseless violence, and I respect that.
But I also can’t let Gianni’s actions go unpunished. He put innocent people in danger—including her. That demands retribution.
As my driver pulls in front of my apartment building, a strange sense of intuition overcomes me, one I’ve learned over the years to trust.
“Go around the block. I’ll call if I need you.”
“You got it, boss.”
I open the door and step onto the sidewalk, inhaling the crisp, evening air as the distant hum of the city settles over me. As I pull my keys from my pocket, a flicker of movement off to the right catches my eye.
Instinct kicks in and I shift my weight, subtly bracing myself.
Two men step from the shadows—one from behind a parked car nearby, the other emerging from the alley. My grip on my keys tightens. Another two flank me from the left. A well-orchestrated ambush, surrounding me in a way that looks to passersby as if we’re simply having a little chat.
“Evening, gentlemen. Should I assume Gianni sent you?”
The nearest one flexes his fingers, itching for a fight. “Mr. Lombardi’s not interested in your calls, Bellacino.”
I glance around, assessing the situation. Four men, maybe more in the shadows. If they wanted me dead, they’d have killed me already.
This is intimidation. They’re here to send a message.
“Look,” I begin, my tone measured. “I’m trying to compromise, to talk this through. War doesn’t benefit either of us.”
One of them steps closer. “Old man Lombardi doesn’t think you’ll stick to talking. He wants to make sure you stay out of his business.”
“Is that so? You do realize it was Gianni who hit my event, starting this whole thing, right? It was my son’s wedding. I’d say he’s the one who needs a lesson on staying out of other people’s affairs.”
“Doesn’t matter. You come near the Lombardis again, we’ll put you down.”
My jaw tightens. I could end this in seconds, but there are innocent people around—families, children. I can’t risk a stray bullet.
“Fine,” I say, taking a step back. “Tell Gianni whatever happens next is on his head.”
Without warning, the man takes a swing.
I pivot, his fist skimming my shoulder instead of my jaw. My patience evaporates. Grabbing his wrist, I twist sharply, yanking him off balance before slamming an elbow into his ribs. He chokes out a gasp, staggering.
Damn it. I was trying to avoid this. So much for not drawing attention.
A second man lunges. I meet him head-on, driving my fist into his gut. He doubles over, coughing.
The other man recovers and charges again.
We exchange blows—quick, brutal. I’m able to block most of his hits, but one lands against my ribs, the pain blooming hot and sharp. Gritting my teeth, I return the favor with a vicious hook to his jaw. He stumbles back, cursing.
The few observers suddenly flee as a third man raises a gun.
Shit.
At that moment, a mother and two children step out of the lobby at the worst possible moment. The woman freezes, eyes going wide. The moment stretches out in a long, dangerous heartbeat.
I cannot let this turn into a bloodbath.
“Get the hell back inside!” I bark, my tone leaving no room for argument. The mother immediately grabs her children and bolts for the door, disappearing into the lobby.
The moment I look back, there’s a gun aimed at my chest.
“Move and I shoot,” the man holding it says, a wide smirk on his face as if he’s enjoying this. His partner, still wincing from the hit I landed earlier, chuckles.
“You’re not so tough now, huh?” he taunts.
I look around, hands flexing at my sides. Every muscle in my body screams for action, but I hold still. The memory of Eva’s face flashes through my mind.
Another voice cuts through the tension. Low. Cold. Dangerous.
“Drop it.”
I snap my gaze to the curb where a black SUV is parked illegally, its back door wide open. Stepping out is none other than Lombardi’s father, Vito. He moves slowly and deliberately, flanked by two men.
Though he’s passed the official leadership to his son, he’s still the real power behind the Lombardi family. A man like him doesn’t retire—he just operates from the shadows until he dies.
There’s a majestic air about him, the posture of someone who’s commanded fear and respect for decades. His suit is impeccable, dark charcoal with a crisp white pocket square, wealth apparent in every detail—from the gleam of his signet ring to the polished leather of his shoes.
Despite his age, there’s no mistaking the danger in his sharp gaze. He’s built his empire on blood, and he knows he has the upper hand.
For now.
“Bellacino,” he says in a calm voice. “I warned you to stay away. Didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to come sniffing around my boy after that wedding fiasco.”
My hands are loose, my stance controlled. “I’ve been trying to talk to him. To settle this before innocent people get caught in the crossfire.”
He snorts. “You’re a snake, just like your father. Always preaching peace while plotting behind closed doors.”
I grit my teeth. “You’re taking advantage of the fact that we’re surrounded by civilians right now,” I remind him, voice low and cold. “You wouldn’t dare pull this in neutral territory.”
A slow, thin smile spreads across his face. “You’re right. I don’t want more bloodshed… here.” He nods toward the building’s windows, where a couple of concerned and scared faces peer out. “This is your turf, Bellacino. If we open fire, we’ll look like the bad guys. You’ll just look weak.”
My jaw clenches. He’s right—letting them walk away without consequences would make me appear cowardly and powerless. But if I act now, I risk turning the sidewalk, my home, into the scene of a massacre.
My fingers twitch. My gun is holstered beneath my jacket. I could draw, but I know I wouldn’t be fast enough. Not against five men.
“Got to admire the balls on you,” I say. “Pulling what you did at my son’s wedding, then threatening me on my own turf.”
He smiles broadly, as if pleased to hear of his own work. “You don’t get to where I am by being timid, Dante.”
I force myself to breathe, to think. “You’re playing with fire, old man.”
He chuckles. “Stay the hell away from Gianni. No more calls. No more threats. Or next time, we won’t be so concerned about bystanders.”
I bristle at the thought. “If Gianni continues provoking me, I won’t hold back,” I warn.
A sneer curls his lips. “You talk big, Bellacino, but look around.” He gestures at his men. “One twitch, and you bleed out right here.”
The restraint it takes to not rip his throat out is monumental, but I can’t risk it. Not with Eva in my life. Not when I promised myself I’d handle things differently this time.
“I already told you I’m not looking to start a war, Vito.”
“Then consider this your only warning.”
Ice settles in my veins. I stare him down. “This isn’t over.”
His laughter is cold and unamused. “Walk away, Bellacino. Take your pass.”
Slowly, I back away, calculating my odds one last time. They may have won this round, but Gianni will not get away with what he’s done.
My driver comes back from rounding the block. The moment he pulls up to the curb, I slide inside, slamming the door shut.
“Go,” I bark.
The tires screech as we pull away. We stay silent for several minutes. I keep my breathing even, my thoughts razor-sharp.
“Boss,” my driver finally says, his voice tight. “What the hell just happened?”
I rub my temples where a dull ache is starting to form. “Lombardi just declared war.”
His knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. “What do you want to do?”
I stare out the window, watching the city go by in a blur. I tried to be civil. I tried to talk sense. But they’ve made it clear they see that as weakness.
So be it.
“They took their shot,” I murmur. “Now it’s my turn.”
I pull out my phone. A text from Eva lights up the screen. Probably something playful and sweet. I can’t bring myself to open it yet.
Because when she learns how close I came to killing those men—or being killed myself—she’s going to look at me differently.
I close my eyes, willing the fury to dissipate.
I promised her I’d try to be better, to be the bigger man.
But being the bigger man doesn’t always equal survival in this world.
At least, not for long.
