In the shadow of Naples

5.

Giovanni paced restlessly through his office, his thoughts a whirlwind of anger and frustration. The shipment of drugs, a critical piece of his empire, had vanished. Though he suspected who was behind it, he wanted certainty first. The fury coursing through his veins clouded his clarity, but he knew he needed to stay calm to deal with the situation effectively.

A sudden knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts.

"Come in!" Giovanni snapped, his voice a mix of barely contained rage and tense anticipation.

Marcello, his most trusted man, stepped in. His face was taut, emphasizing the gravity of the message. "Giovanni, we've obtained the footage from the port," he said, holding up a USB stick.

Giovanni nodded and moved toward his desk, where Marcello began playing the footage. On the screen appeared shadowy figures, working with quick, precise movements. Their faces were blurry, but their intentions were clear: professionals hired by someone with an agenda. Giovanni's eyes narrowed as he analyzed the footage.

"Marcello, I want a meeting with all the key players within the hour," Giovanni said, his voice now calm but with an unmistakable undertone of determination. There was no time to lose; immediate action was necessary.

After Marcello left the room, Giovanni filled his glass with a stiff drink and downed it in one gulp. The bitter taste helped him clear his mind. He slammed the glass down on the table, just as his mother, Rosa, entered the room.

"Isn't it a bit early for a drink?" she asked, her eyebrows slightly raised as she glanced at the empty glass.

Giovanni's hard expression softened when he saw her. "Hello, Mother," he said, walking over to embrace her. He planted two gentle kisses on her cheeks, a brief moment of affection on an otherwise cold day.

"Don't worry about that shipment," Rosa said, her eyes sharp with concern. "You know who did this, and they know full well they're dealing with the biggest and most dangerous family."

Giovanni nodded, his jaw clenched. "I think it's time to teach these people a lesson," his mother said with a dangerous edge in her voice. "They shouldn't play games with the Romano family."

Giovanni's office exuded power and status. The walls were lined with dark wooden panels, and the tall bookshelves were filled with books and files, symbols of his legacy. In the center stood a large oak desk, with only an empty glass and a bottle of whiskey on it a symbol of his ability to solve problems his own way. Heavy drapes blocked most of the light, creating a stifling atmosphere that mirrored the gravity of the situation.

An hour later, the office was filled with the key figures of the Romano family. The tension in the room was palpable, as if everyone was on the verge of exploding. Giovanni sat at the head of the long table, his mother to his right. His eyes scanned the gathered men, all with tight faces and strained expressions.

"We need to show that no one messes with us," Giovanni began, his voice calm but laced with cold fury. "I want to strike at their territory a little warning to the Valentino family."

"Antonio," he continued, looking at a man on his left, "I want you to take a group and find out exactly what went wrong with the shipment and who those men are that the Valentinos hired."

Antonio nodded, his face serious. "I'll take care of it, Giovanni."

"Francesco," Giovanni said, turning to another man, "you'll find out who is working with the Valentinos. I want you to capture those men and lock them up in our building. I want answers, even if you have to beat them out."

"Understood," Francesco replied, his voice resolute.

"Marcello," Giovanni turned to his right-hand man, "pick a few of our best men. We're going to pay the Valentinos a visit and leave behind a message they won't soon forget."

As he outlined his plans, Giovanni looked at his mother. "What do you think, Mother?"

Rosa smiled with pride, but her eyes were filled with melancholy. "Your father would be proud of you, my boy," she said softly, as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Giovanni felt a moment of weakness but quickly recovered. He nodded slowly, bearing the weight of his family's legacy with renewed resolve.

The sun was high in the sky as Giovanni and his men entered Valentino territory. The market was bustling, filled with people going about their daily shopping, unaware of the violence about to erupt. The contrast between the peaceful setting and the impending bloodshed gave Giovanni a brief moment of reflection, but he knew what had to be done.

With calm, purposeful strides, he and his men walked through the market. The Valentino men, their targets, stood in a small group by a fruit stall, laughing and chatting. Giovanni's expression hardened as he approached, his hand resting on the gun concealed under his jacket.

In an instant, all hell broke loose. Giovanni drew his weapon, and the silence of the market was shattered by the deafening sound of gunfire. The crowd screamed and scattered in panic as the Valentino men dropped one by one, riddled with bullets.

Giovanni moved quickly and efficiently, his gaze focused and unwavering. This was not an emotional act, but a calculated decision, a message that needed to be delivered loud and clear.

Just as the chaos reached its peak, Giovanni noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Amidst the panicked crowd and the suffocating scent of blood, he caught a glimpse of something unusual. In a narrow alley, half-hidden behind an old cupboard, he saw a pair of emerald green eyes staring at him in fear. The contrast between the red hair framing her face and the terror in her eyes made him freeze for a second.

His heart skipped a beat. Who is she? he wondered, as their eyes met for a brief moment. Those eyes, their intensity, would haunt him for a long time.

As he turned and walked away from the scene, the memory of those emerald eyes felt like a brand seared into his mind. But now was not the time to dwell on it. He had left his message, and that was all that mattered.