Luciano Vitale slammed his fist against the marble desk, the sharp sound echoing through his office. The rage that had been simmering inside him for weeks now boiled over, the intensity of it flashing behind his dark eyes. Everything was crumbling too quickly, slipping out of his control, and he could feel the walls closing in on him.
The reports about the Grecos were becoming harder to ignore. Antonio Greco's men had been making moves, subtle at first, but now their reach was undeniable. They were starting to press on Salvatore's empire, but Luciano knew that wasn't the only reason for his anger.
He paced the room, his mind racing with the possibilities. If the Grecos were poking at Salvatore, it wouldn't be long before they turned their sights on him as well. Antonio Greco wasn't just testing Salvatore's defenses—he was testing the whole of New York, seeing who would be strong enough to stand once the dust settled.
Luciano hated the idea of being anyone's target. He had worked too hard to carve out his own piece of this city, and he wasn't about to let Antonio—or anyone—take that from him.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Luciano's jaw clenched as he barked, "Come in."
The door opened, and Lorenzo, his capo, stepped inside. Lorenzo was tall, lean, and moved with a quiet efficiency that Luciano had always appreciated. He wasn't flashy or overly ambitious like some of the others in Luciano's inner circle. He was calculated—steady. It was why Luciano trusted him more than most.
"They're getting bolder," Lorenzo said, skipping any formalities. "The Grecos hit another one of Salvatore's warehouses last night."
Luciano ran a hand through his dark hair, exhaling sharply. "And Salvatore's still sitting on his hands?"
Lorenzo shrugged, his expression impassive. "Seems like it. Word is, he's trying to play it cool. Gathering intel. He doesn't want to make a move until he knows what Antonio's really up to."
Luciano let out a bitter laugh. "Typical Salvatore. Always cautious, always waiting. That's how you get overtaken."
Lorenzo stayed silent, watching his boss carefully. Luciano wasn't known for patience. He was impulsive, quick to react, and often quicker to strike. It was a trait that had earned him both respect and enemies in equal measure.
"Salvatore's waiting for the perfect moment, but he's forgetting that timing isn't always on your side," Luciano muttered. His gaze sharpened as he stared out the large windows of his office, the city sprawling beneath him. "If he doesn't act soon, the Grecos are going to get a foothold in this city."
Lorenzo crossed his arms, his brow furrowing. "So, what are you thinking?"
Luciano turned back to his capo, his eyes gleaming with cold determination. "We make the first move. Before Salvatore or Antonio can make us their next target."
Lorenzo's lips pressed into a thin line, though he didn't voice his doubts. "Going after the Grecos will mean war. You're ready for that?"
Luciano stepped closer, his voice lowering to a deadly calm. "I'm not afraid of war. If Antonio Greco thinks he can come into my city and start making plays, he's got another thing coming. We send a message—one that tells him he's not welcome here."
Lorenzo nodded but hesitated for a moment. "And Salvatore? He's going to take this personally if we act without consulting him."
Luciano's eyes darkened. "Salvatore doesn't run my crew. He's forgotten what it's like to be on the streets, to fight for every inch of ground. He wants to sit back and let the Grecos chip away at him? Fine. But I won't sit around waiting for them to come for us."
Lorenzo seemed to understand the weight of Luciano's words. Salvatore might be the bigger name in the city, but Luciano's growing power made him a force in his own right. And in the world they lived in, respect came not just from holding power—but from showing you weren't afraid to use it.
"What's the plan?" Lorenzo asked after a beat.
Luciano's gaze flicked toward a map of New York pinned to the wall. He'd marked out key areas controlled by the De Luca family, his own operations, and now a growing cluster of pins representing the Greco's recent activities. His fingers traced the routes, his mind already calculating.
"We start by hitting one of their safehouses. Something small but important. Just enough to get their attention."
Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "Won't that put us right in their sights?"
"That's the point," Luciano said, his voice cold. "We need to send a message that New York isn't up for grabs. If Antonio wants to come after us, we'll be ready for him."
Lorenzo seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding. "I'll round up the crew. We'll move tonight."
As Lorenzo turned to leave, Luciano called after him. "Keep it clean. I don't want this turning into a massacre—yet."
Lorenzo smirked but nodded again, his hand on the door as he slipped out.
Left alone in his office, Luciano felt the familiar adrenaline coursing through him. He was never one to back down from a fight, and the idea of going after the Grecos thrilled him. They thought they could step into his city and make moves without consequence. They were wrong.
But as the excitement built, there was also a part of Luciano that knew this would change things. Taking the first shot meant there would be no turning back. The battle lines would be drawn, and the power struggle in New York would become bloodier, more dangerous.
Still, Luciano welcomed it. In his world, power wasn't just taken—it was earned, and anyone who didn't fight for it didn't deserve it.
He stepped closer to the window, staring down at the bustling streets below. The city was alive, teeming with people going about their lives, unaware of the battles being fought behind the scenes. But Luciano knew that soon, those battles would spill out into the open.
And when they did, he intended to be the one left standing