Vito sat brooding in his dimly-lit study, tendrils of cigar smoke coiling around him like smoldering serpents.
This was his city, his empire - and yet it threatens him, no longer bowing to his iron will. Clenching the carved wooden arms of his chair, The taste for revenge was bitter on his tongue.
A sudden rap at the heavy oak door jolted him from his reverie. "Avanti," he called brusquely.
The door creaked open and Santoro slipped in, his craggy face grim. "Boss. The streets whisper, my Lord. Will that rat Vicenzo struttin' around like he's the new capo di tutti capi.""
Vito's jaw tightened. "Let 'em chirp like birds. They think they can clip the Lion's claws so easily? Sto gonfiare il petto e poi li sbranerò. They'll soon learn the price of betrayal."
Santoro shuffled his feet. "Yeah, about that...weren't we supposed to whack Vicenzo today?"
Vito exhaled a plume of cigar smoke but said nothing.
