Snapping Point||Book 1

7.

Ottavio locked eyes with me, and, though the thought to narrow down seemed to clock him, he chose to watch, acting otherwise.

Morelli grunted slowly. "Up until yesterday, your father never shut up about your role in the family. I've seen how dedicated you've been, watched you deliver time and time again."

He leaned against the fountain's concrete edge and pulled out his cigar, but didn't light it. "I damn well chose you over Ottavio, over Amato's boys. Romano, I don't want to hear another word about those thugs. They shouldn't be anywhere near our turf, shouldn't have a foothold in our operations, and you shouldn't still be standing here with me while they are."

What was I to do? Bolt straight to Ottavio, wrap my hands around his neck, shove my cigarette into his nose, then strategize how to infiltrate Ice Phantom with him and put an end to this madness once and for all. Damn right. But I wasn't finished pondering what to say to Morelli. He just dropped a bomb on me—that Ottavio or one of Amato's sons could replace me if he so wished.

I vehemently disagreed, but Morelli was the master of the impossible. And when it came to him, my father's sharp tongue was about as sharp as a rusty blade.

"I haven't been plotting an attack because I already sent a warning with a two-week ultimatum. It's up on Thursday."

"You don't have till Thursday," he snapped, finally lighting his cigar and blowing the smoke in my face. "We don't even have until midweek. Any claim they think they have over that land for operations means squat. And another outburst in RoyalGrey will be met with a fist to your throat."

That's the kicker; I couldn't fathom why Ice Phantom was hell-bent on dragging us all into this pointless conflict. I'd seen more justified causes for war, and this... it just didn't add up or make any fucking sense to the TIF. Sure, encroaching on our turf was one thing, but stirring chaos in our ranks, turning our own against us? Uncle Cristiano had been murdered because of his wife's fling with one of their goons. Now I was starting to wonder if it was all a ploy to oust the former Capo, to set us back and strike anew. But it'd be foolish for them to think they could overthrow our organization... if that's even what they wanted.

It was all still a guessing game... and I sucked at those.

They had torched our joints, cabins, even taken out some of our own, and in turn, we had hit them back just as hard. I got our stance on defending our turf and our people from these punks, but what I couldn't wrap my head around was Ice Phantom's endgame.

Money? Nah, they would've demanded it already. Two long years of this nonsense was enough time.

Land? They'd taken what they wanted by force.

And with Ivan—their leader—dropping a weekly podcast detailing our affairs, I'd brushed him off as a lunatic playing mental chess with his team's lives at stake.

But I knew better. No sane leader would be that calculated if he was just crazy. And while his motives remained murky, his actions hit as hard as a sledgehammer on fragile glass.

I wasn't afraid to storm their turf, torch the place, drive them out, maybe even snatch a few more of their lackeys and give them a taste of our hospitality. But I couldn't shake the thought of the women and kids under their roof. That's why I'd sent them a warning to clear out.

If Ivan had any sense, he'd be gone by Thursday.

But now, with Morelli forcing me to shift my deadline, I replied, "I'm in a tight spot here, Don Morelli. You know—"

"Figure it out, kid. I don't know nothing." Leaning in close, he narrowed the distance between us. "Don't make me find someone more competent to handle it."