Page 56 of Dark Mafia Heir

Dario’s the first person to break the silence.

Since his arrival in my office, we’d done nothing but stare wordlessly at each other. However, now his expression is carved from stone, but his eyes burn with restrained fury, matching my own.

My fingers drum rhythmically against the edge of the table, and I lean back. The buzz of the club rattles in a silent hum against the walls of the office, but it barely distracts us.

More serious issues are at hand, like fishing out who launched the attack on the warehouse by the dock.

“Stubborn doesn’t even begin to cover it.” My jaw tightens. “His daughter’s life is hanging by a thread, and he still won’t talk.”

“You’d think with family on the line, he’d fold. But no. He might be protecting someone—whoever’s behind this,” Dario says.

I nod, running a hand down my face as I try to push down the anger threatening to consume me. “And that someone sent a message with that attack. Peter’s either scared.” I meet Dario’s gaze, “totally clueless, or he’s in deeper than we realize.”

“Peter Cole can’t be innocent.”

“Doesn’t matter what he can or can’t be. Whoever did it is trying to cripple us.”

“You know who it is.”

“I have my best guess.”

Dario sits up, folding his arms across his chest. Curious eyes meet mine. “Who?”

My chair scrapes against the floor as I stand, unable to sit any longer. The weight of this shit presses down on me, suffocating. Every second we waste leaves us more susceptible.

“Salvatore Russo.”

Dario shakes his head. “No.”

“No?”

Dario rises to his feet as well, sticking his hands into his pockets. “That surprise attack was a sneaky one. We’ve been against Russo for years, Nio. Salvatore’s style is bold. He’d walk in dressed in a fucking suit, burn the place down, and leave his fucking signature on the cameras. I have high doubts that he did this.”

“Don’t put it above anyone; a man can change.”

“A man?” His eyes narrow and the frown on his mouth etches deeper. “Salvatore’s not justanyone, Nio. You know this. He’s a fucking beast. He’s been that way for years. Why send masked men now? Or launch a surprise attack when he can just do it anyway? Doesn’t make sense, does it?”

No, it doesn’t.

The whole thing is frustrating, and I quell the urge to smash into something. But Dario had more than just a fucking point.

We’ve never known Salvatore Russo to be a coward. It’s one of the reasons we take his threats seriously.

“Talk to Peter again. Push harder. Remind him of what’s at stake.”

“You think he’ll crack?”

I stop, turning to face him. “He has to. If not for himself, then for his daughter. No man alive can watch his child suffer and stay silent forever.”

Dario exhales sharply, shaking his head. “We don’t have forever, Antonio. We need answers now. If he doesn’t give us what we need…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t have to. We both know what comes next.

“Handle it. One way or another, Peter’s going to talk. And when he does, or if he doesn’t, we’ll find whoever’s behind this and make them regret the fucking day they decided to cross us.”

Dario leans forward, his elbows resting on the table, his eyes locking onto mine. “That’s the only option. If we don’t, they’ll come for more than just the warehouses next time.”

When Dario leaves, I pick a random tumbler from the mini bar at the corner, and throw it against the wall.

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