Rule 7 : Rage

CHAPTER 60: The Crane of Authority.

The north graveyard lies in ashes," Vittorio spat, his lips curling into a smirk. "Ruggiero won't even get a proper burial. All because of Maximus." He leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "La Mano del Titano can't afford to lose you, Don. Lie low for now. Who knows what he's plotting?"

Conti's eyes narrowed, and the phone shattered the silence. "The Irishman!" he growled, snapping up the phone. "Paris needs the Crane of Authority, Conti," the voice on the other end spat.

"May I ask, for what?" Conti demanded, his hand instinctively gripping his neck.

"The dead deserve some respect!" The Irishman's voice was laced with venom.

Vittorio smirked, tapping his fingers on the desk, his gaze flickering briefly to Conti.

"I'm a busy man, Irishman. Life takes precedence over death. Wouldn't you agree?" Conti's voice was smooth, tinged with a dry chuckle.

"If this were just business, a bullet to the knee might've sufficed," the Irishman crackled. "But La Mano Del Titano, your empire, is at risk. Other syndicates are circling, ready to pounce."

Conti's jaw tightened. "You dare threaten me?

"A threat, indeed," the Irishman's voice deepened. "Everyone knows the truth. You're the mastermind behind Ruggiero's death. Now it's your turn to pay."

Conti slammed the phone onto the table, his fist pounding the wood. "Get out!" he roared, his voice echoing through the room.

The women shrieked and scrambled to leave, their bangles clinking in their haste. Vittorio watched, fingers grinding together, eyes fixed on the shattered ashtray as Conti crushed it.

The shards scattered across the floor. The guards froze, their backs stiff, eyes wide.
Their hands hovering near their holsters unsure whether to move.

Conti's eyes sharpened. "Something's off," he muttered.

Vittorio, a knowing glint in his eyes. "What is it?"

"They're inviting me to pay respects to Ruggiero... as if they're mourning a friend." Conti's voice dropped, his mind racing. "I won't go.

"Why not?" Vittorio scoffed. "They must have something to bury, if not his body..."

"There's something more... sinister." Conti leaned forward, lowering his voice. "They think I'm behind it all."

"I don't trust it, Vittorio." Conti's eyes scanned the room, then he motioned for Vittorio to come closer.

Vittorio leaned forward. "And what do you think it is, Don?"

"A farce—a trap." Conti's fingers scraped the desk, his eyes narrowing. "Vittorio, the Irishman believes I'm behind Pa's death."

Vittorio's eyes widened, his brows shooting up. "What!" he hissed, his hand covering his mouth. "That—Lord..."

Conti cut in sharply. "Maximus, I swear I'll paint the walls of La Mano De Titano with his blood. His head will be a feast for my birds."

Vittorio leaned in, his voice low. "A wise decision, Don. They're setting a trap... and it's a deadly one."

Their eyes locked, cold and calculating, that seem to shrink the room with each passing second. Conti snapped his fingers suddenly. "If not his body..." He paused, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "Then we send Massimo's message to the Irishman."

Vittorio nodded, his fingers curling around his mustache. "I agree, Don. We can't afford to be caught off guard. We stay one step ahead, always."

He leaned in closer. "But Don," he continued, his tone shifting, "I think you should attend. Not for respect, but for control. We can't let them see weakness. If we don't handle this right, it'll tarnish our name... and ruin our operations."

Conti leaned back, a cold cackle escaping his lips. "Operations, indeed," he murmured, his mind drifting back to the Irishman's words. "If this were just business, a bullet to the knee might've sufficed. But La Mano Del Titano, your empire, is at risk. Other syndicates are circling, ready to pounce."

He snapped his gaze to Vittorio. "I wouldn't deny that Massimo's death would come by my own hand—the crane of authority!" he growled, reaching for a joint.

The crackle of flame kissed the edge, smoke curling between his lips as he exhaled slowly, collecting his thoughts. He gestured sharply at a guard.

"Well..." Vittorio's words trailed off as Conti mouthed something to the guard. With a resigned sigh, Vittorio darted away.

A sharp clap echoed, followed by the retreating footsteps of the guard. The women swept in, gathering around him as he exhaled a plume of smoke, their faces lit in its haze.

"I suppose it's time for me to take my leave,"Vittorio said, a sly grin spreading across his face. "I must oversee the marking of our new project."

"Go, and wait for the news!" Conti's voice rumbled through the walls, ending with a sardonic laugh. The door slammed shut, leaving the guards exchanging uneasy glances.

One of the guards stepped forward, his eyes locked on Conti. "What's next, Don?" he asked, his nostrils flaring.

Conti's eyes narrowed, his leg bouncing rhythmically as he drummed his fingers on the table. "We have somewhere to be, Bruno," he murmured, a sneer creeping across his lips. "This game... is only just beginning."