Page 89 of Beneath the Shadows

“That’s a fucking lie,” Mario snaps. “I had nothing to do with this.”

Their protests are drowned out by the thunderous sound of two gunshots. The men slump to the floor. The room falls into a suffocating silence.

My eyes sweep over the room. “This is your only chance,” I say slowly, my tone unwavering. “You will pledge your loyalty to me andLa Famiglianow or you will take this opportunity to walk away and leave this behind. But know this—if you choose to stay, any betrayal will meet the same fate.”

One by one, they pledge their allegiance to theFamiglia.There’s no hesitation, no doubt in their voices. Now, we stand ready to face whatever comes next with renewed strength and unwavering unity.

* * *

Now I’m able to turn my attention to the next problem—Emilio Salazar and his cartel. They’ve been overextended in Colombia, struggling to hold onto their coca fields as rivals close in. Their grip is slipping, and I plan to exploit that.

Late last night, Dante eliminated Quito Rojas, Salazar’s second-in-command. One clean shot to the skull, no witnesses. Just minutes ago, I sent the photos to Salazar. Now, I wait for the call.

When the phone rings, I don’t waste time. “Consider this your only warning. Our business is finished,” I say, my voice cold and flat.

“We had a deal,” Salazar replies.

"You had a deal with Valentino," I say, correcting him. "But if you think you can push back, I’ll make sure your enemies have everything they need to take your fields and routes. How long do you think you’ll last after that?"

The silence that follows is almost satisfying. He knows he’s cornered.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks, his voice dripping with resignation. "You’ve made your point. No need for more bloodshed."

A wicked grin pulls at my lips. "Smart choice. I expect your men out of my territory by the end of the week. Stay out of my way, and we won’t have any more problems."

Another pause, then a defeated, "Understood."

I hang up, the satisfaction settling in. Salazar’s done. Now, all that’s left is cutting ties with the DeLucaFamiglia, ensuring no humans will ever be trafficked through our city again.

Alessia

After a day and a half on a bus, I finally arrive in Magnolia Springs, Alabama. The sun is warm on my skin, and the small-town charm of the place should feel welcoming, but all I feel is the gnawing ache of uncertainty. Did I think this through all the way? No. I left with barely more than the cash in my pocket, a few outfits, and a cheap prepaid phone I picked up at one of the bus stops.

As I walk down the main street, the reality of my situation crashes down. I have no ID, no official documents. Getting a place to stay or finding a job is going to be almost impossible. My heart races as I scan the unfamiliar faces of the locals, wondering how long I can survive before I run out of money.

I spot a small diner and, with no better options, I pull open the door. The bells above jingle, and the aroma of fresh coffee and grilled food wraps around me. An older woman with white hair, her glasses low on her nose, glances up from behind the counter.

“Sit anywhere, sugar. I’ll be right with ya,” she says, her voice carrying the warmth of a grandmother, but it does little to calm my nerves.

I slide into a booth and glance over the menu tucked behind the napkin dispenser. My stomach churns with hunger, but I count the remaining bills in my pocket trying to figure out what I can afford to spend on food when I still need a place to sleep tonight.

A few minutes later, the woman appears at my table, pulling out a pencil from behind her ear and flipping open a small tablet. “What can I get for you?”

“Just a coffee, please,” I say, trying to sound less desperate than I feel.

“Sure thing,” she says, but as she turns to leave, another diner calls out.

“Hey Rosie. Did you forget my burger?”

She huffs, turning briefly toward the man. “Hold your horses, Pete,” then looks back at me, offering a weary smile. “Sorry ‘bout that. My waitress up and quit this morning, left me in a real bind.”

My mind races. This could be my chance. “Does that mean you’re hiring?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

Her eyes narrow, studying me. “You got experience?”

“I do,” I say quickly. “I’ve waitressed before.”

Rosie’s expression softens. “Well, ain’t that somethin’. When can you start?”

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