Enzo's phone burned against his ear, his knuckles white as he gripped the receiver, the sound of an agent's voice echoing in his head. Every word dripped with irritation.
"Four million," the agent said, and it sent a sharp sting through Enzo's chest. "We held back your shipments, Mr. Volpe. There's nothing we can do right now. We've got eyes on all your ports."
Enzo's jaw clenched so tight he thought it might crack. "And you're telling me this how, exactly?" His voice was low, threatening, the type that made people take a step back.
The agent on the other end stammered something about protocols, procedures, but the mafia king wasn't listening. He slammed the phone down, the cheap plastic crackling as it hit the surface of his desk. The room was silent for a second, the kind of quiet that only made his anger swell.
