Vito's sleek black Sedan prowled the dimly-lit streets, its wheels kissing the rain-slicked asphalt. Inside, Vito Moretti lounged in the plush leather seat, his craggy features thrown into stark relief by the passing streetlights. Licorice hair slicked back, beady eyes like chips of ice. Vito savored a bold Brunello, the deep garnet liquid swirling in his crystal glass, mirroring the city lights.
Guiseppe, Vito's loyal aide, navigated the city's outskirts with a watchful eye through the rearview mirror, ready to heed any command from his formidable boss. Vito took a slow sip of wine, his rough voice rumbling ominously through the hush of the car's interior.
"That whelp Nico's become a damn nuisance. But we'll make him heel, once we get the girl." Vito's heavy brow furrowed, shadowing his eyes. "Family blood still binds the pup. He's forgotten who holds the leash."
