Rescued by Darkness

A Direct Threat

The warehouse on the outskirts of Naples was dimly lit, the thick air heavy with tension. The low hum of machinery in the background was drowned out by the shuffling of boots on concrete and the occasional clinking of weapons being loaded. Lorenzo stood at the center of it all, his presence commanding the respect and fear of everyone around him. His sons flanked him, their eyes scanning the room for any sign of danger, ready to act at a moment's notice.

They had called for a meeting with Sergei Ivanov, one of the key players in the Russian mafia, hoping to end the feud before it escalated into full-blown war. Lorenzo didn't trust Ivanov—no one did—but if there was a chance to neutralize the threat before it reached his family, he had to take it.

Lorenzo was no fool. He knew the Russians wouldn't bow easily, but he also knew how to use fear and power to his advantage. The D'Angelos weren't just feared in Italy—they were respected, their influence extending across borders. But now, with the Russians testing their strength, it was time to remind everyone exactly who they were dealing with.

"Where is he?" Nico asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the entrance.

"Patience," Lorenzo replied, his voice low but firm. "He'll come. He knows what's at stake."

Nico nodded but remained tense, his hand resting on the grip of his gun.

A few moments later, the creaking of the large metal door echoed through the room, and in walked Sergei Ivanov, flanked by his own men. His cold, calculating eyes swept the room before settling on Lorenzo. There was a slight smirk on his face, one that made Lorenzo's blood simmer with irritation.

Sergei approached with an air of arrogance, his bulky frame draped in a thick leather coat despite the warmth of the warehouse. He stopped a few feet from Lorenzo, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and malice.

"You're a hard man to meet, D'Angelo," Sergei said in heavily accented Italian. "I thought maybe you were avoiding me."

Lorenzo didn't bother with pleasantries. "You wanted a meeting. Now you've got it. Let's cut to the point."

Sergei's smirk widened. "Always straight to business. I respect that." He paused for a moment, looking around at the D'Angelo brothers who stood like statues, their eyes never leaving him. 

"You've built quite a little empire here, haven't you? But, as they say, all empires fall."

"Only the weak ones," Lorenzo replied coolly. "What do you want, Ivanov?"

Sergei tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. "What do I want? Simple. I want what's mine—control of the northern territories, the shipping lanes in Naples, and maybe...a little extra. You see, Lorenzo, I like challenges. And you've made things interesting."

Lorenzo's jaw tightened, his patience thinning. "You're overstepping. This isn't a negotiation for territory. You and your men made an unprovoked move, and now you're here, wasting my time."

Sergei's eyes darkened, his smile fading. "Unprovoked? I don't think so. You've been in our way for far too long, D'Angelo. But I'm not here to discuss logistics. I'm here to deliver a message."

Lorenzo's eyes narrowed. He didn't like where this was going.

Sergei stepped closer, lowering his voice so only Lorenzo could hear. "You think you're untouchable. That your little fortress will protect you. But I know something you don't." He leaned in, his breath cold against Lorenzo's ear. "I know about your daughter."

Lorenzo's entire body went rigid. His heart pounded in his chest, fury rising like a tidal wave. He grabbed Sergei by the collar, pulling him closer, his voice a growl. "What did you say?"