"Nobody is allowed between these pretty little thighs but me....and if anyone tries...𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦."
~
They call him The King-a ghost who rules the world's most powerful mafia from the shadows. No face. No mercy. No mistakes.
And beside...
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The Arena's meeting room was soundproof, windowless, and cold. Perfect for conversations that never needed to leave the table.
Luca sat at the head, flanked by Antonio and Matteo—both sharp-eyed, unreadable. Across from them, Oscar adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, a folder already open in front of him. Starr and Ida arrived just seconds before Blade, their silence not icy, but calculated.
"Let's talk about Marseille," Oscar began, fingers tapping the dossier. "There's been a shift in the ecosystem."
"A power vacuum?" Matteo asked.
"More like a power struggle," Ida cut in, uncrossing her arms. "The syndicates that once worked with us have started biting at each other. Territory lines are bleeding. Prices are rising. And someone's been whispering to the Bratva."
Antonio's eyes darkened. "I thought Marseille was neutral."
"Was," Starr said. "Now it's a breeding ground for opportunists."
Oscar flipped a page. "Two of our holding facilities were compromised in the last month. Cargo rerouted. Staff disappeared. And someone's been pushing counterfeit weapons through a stolen signature that traces back—faintly—to your New York docks."
Blade didn't move from where he stood, but the air shifted slightly around him. "Someone's trying to turn our systems against each other. Either from inside... or too close to see."
Luca leaned back, slow and deliberate. "The Bratva?"
"Not directly," Oscar answered. "But someone wants it to look that way. They're stoking mistrust between you and the King."
"That won't last," Antonio muttered.
"No," Blade said quietly. "But it'll be loud while it does."
"We need someone inside," Matteo said. "A way to clean up without setting off alarms."
"We already have someone," Starr said.
Everyone looked at her.
"She's already moving. Quietly. You'll be looped in when necessary. Until then—we fortify our end."
A moment passed—no one moved.
Then Starr stood, smoothing her blazer. "I suggest we all act like the walls are listening. Because they are."
No one laughed.
The meeting ended in silence, the kind that echoed long after the door shut behind them.
