Chapter 19

Alcohol and gunpowder lingered in the air of a large mansion, located far from the bustling city, nearer to the shore. The inhabitants were an uneven mix of men in black suits, having two handgun holsters resting on their shoulders. And men with slicked back gelled hair, sipping intrinsically out of a wine glass, in the company of slender escorts, with energetic smiles, who would laugh at almost anything said by their patrons.

At the center of it all, sat a bald head man with false tinted golden front teeth, and a cigar loosely slipping from the side of his mouth. His brown eyes seemed to be focused on the blonde haired, blue eyed man, whose hands were tied behind his back, and an envelope balanced in-between his lips.

"He's one of Vitto's spies I suppose." The man stated with a stoic expression on his face, on his lap was a raven black and golden pistol, with the initials, DR inscribed above the trigger in italic font.

"Yes boss, he had been collecting information about all our transactions over the past week, and made copies of our ammunition records." Replied the red haired man, with square lens that hung on the bridge of his nose. He sat behind his boss, with both his hands dug in his pockets, an eager expression drawn on his face.

"And how much of our information has this rat leaked to that witch?" The bald headed man asked, as his itchy fingers cocked his pistol and pointed his muzzle at him.

"As much information as he was given, most of our most confidential information still remains hidden. But anyhow, I think it's safer to kill him to set an example."

The red haired made a move to pull out the gun in his trousers, as the tension in the corner of the room rose.

"The smell of rodents makes my stomach hurl, take him outside and finish him off. Don't let his blood soil my imported rugs." Ordered the Don of the Renato family, he let out a thick cloud of smoke, an unsatisfied look on his face.

"Yes boss." The man behind him hastily replied, lowering his head in respect.

However, just as he was about to raise his line of sight from the golden rug underneath his feet, his hands acted completely out of instinct and pulled out two guns from his suit trousers. He focused his aim on two distinct sides above him, a murderous gaze embedded in his brown monolid eyes.

"Bravo! Guarda Segugio." Applauded a man in a long black coat, with two Thompson 1928's pointed directly at Don Renato, taking the old man unaware.

Instinctively, all the men in suits, pulled out their handguns and aimed directly at the brown haired, middle aged man, who had an I-don't-give-a-shit aura exuding him.

"Marcello! What is the meaning of this?" Renato growled in a low tone, his wrinkly fingers rested on the shiny freshly polished pistol.

At the mention of the name Marcello, the patrons and escorts around tensed up, frozen with fear. They must have surely heard the tales about him, but never once thought they'd get to meet, no, lay eyes on the infamous white sheep of the family.

The Moretti family.

"Don't bite your tongue, today isn't the day you dine with the devil." Marcello retorted, walking forward with pointed guns, unfazed by the number of muzzles pointed in his direction.

Behind him were a total of twelve men who stuck out like sore thumbs, all in dark emerald suits, pointing their guns at each corner of the Mansion.

The man named Marcello pulled himself a seat and slumped hard on it, then crossed his mud stained shoes over the table. Causing the Don to curl his nose up in disgust, the man behind him bit hard on his lower lip and hissed.

"It's been a while Cassio." Marcello remarked, referring to the neck length red haired man, who had his hands full, keeping the snipers at bay.

Cassio sneered at him with disdain, and rolled his eyes, not caring to hide his hatred towards the pompous older son of the Moretti clan.

"I don't see that ass kisser, Cola anywhere." Cassio grimaced, never once losing sight of the main threat, which were the men stationed at points where they could easily hit the Don's vital points.

"He's busy." Marcello said with gritted teeth, unwilling to continue making needless small talk, not after he found out about his father's illness.

"Marcello, I always pegged you as the smarter Moretti, because you always knew when to keep your nose out of other people's business and watch quietly." The Don spoke, meticulously dusting off invisible specs of dust from his dark brown retro suit.

"You've strutted into my mansion and pointed a gun at my family, that's already an unforgivable offense. Depending on what you say now, I might not let you leave here alive." The Don's countenance dampened, as his tone took a sharp decline.

The spectators were fully aware of what was happening, even though they both had guns pointed at each other, it would be foolish of either one to pull the trigger at this crucial moment.

Marcello who was quick to pick up on the undertone wasted no time to lay both his guns on the table and drop his feet, showing some respect to the don.

"The Renato family is significantly one of the influential clans aligned under our family. And when family members fight, it's a natural law to let the parties involved settle it amongst themselves." He took a pause and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

"Papa, did pick up your family when you were neck deep in debt and formed an alliance, even though we were on the losing side. Why do you think that is?" His question was meant to strike a nerve within the older looking man.

"Are you here about that insignificant rat Vitto? My only heir Rochus is dead, don't tell me you're going to interfere with my revenge?" He rhetorically questioned, looking to nitpick Marcello's words, with the intention of using it against him.

"Wasn't Rochus one of your many bastards running amuck on the streets?" Marcello teased, and brought the glass to his lips, earning a chuckle from his men, the scowl on the Don's face was a clear indicator that he was unamused.

"I'm here on different business." The mood in the room swiftly changed, Cassio tightened his grip on the trigger of his gun, a line of sweat formed on his forehead.

"You formed an alliance with Ciro six months ago, our family didn't say much about it and let it slide. However, because of the crime that bastard has caused, I'm here to serve you this." He reached into his emerald green suit and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"What is that?"

"A notice, with the authority papa vested on my shoulders, and in accordance to the Moretti clan code of conduct. The Renato family has to pay a compensatory fine of sixty percent of all assets under your family's name, or..." Marcello brandished the printed notice in front of the Don, a frank expression on his face.

"You could decide to resign from the alliance and lose the family's protection."

Don Renato did not wait for Marcello to finish and pointed his pistol at the young man, with venom filled eyes.

"You're thirty years too young to try and threaten me, you rat! What does my alliance with Ciro have to do with the family?" He pensively asked, with eyes ready to kill.

Cassio could sense the snipers were growing impatient, and were merely waiting on orders to take out his boss. However, this was the Renato turf, escaping two snipers was the least of Cassio's worries.

"You should know, that whatever move he makes, the consequences reflects on your family. And right now, he's done something that would anger Papa."

Everyone in the room, was certain that it was an unspoken rule to lie, using the name of Don Moretti. Even though the Moretti siblings were rough mannered, they obeyed the code of conduct to a T.

"Don Moretti?" The bald man raised a brow and tossed his cigar unto the newly purchased rug, lowering his defenses to negotiate.

"What did Ciro do?" His voice was an even mix of curiosity, anger and irritation.

"Other than annoy the shit out of me, he orchestrated the kidnapping of a very important person to the boss. Normally, we would have merely silenced Ciro and quenched the fire, but due to how highly ranked this person is, our hands are tied." He said, and crossed one leg over the other.

"How highly ranked?" The look on the Don's face seemed stoic on the surface, but he was shaking in his boots inwardly.

"Platinum class. The Moretti family owes his family a favor." Marcello sharply, announced, an ear deafening silence followed sharply.