30. Scar
30
SCAR
I stride into the room with the kind of purpose that makes the air hum, my boots thudding against the concrete floor as I move to the drafting table. The tension in the room is the kind that seeps into your bones and tightens your chest, making every breath feel like a small victory. I can feel it in the air as I stare at the map spread out on the table before me, the lines of red ink marking every key position, every movement.
The men gather around, their faces set, their eyes sharp. The Enforcer stands behind me, an asset that hasn’t left our side since we retained him for this operation. There’s a reason why he gets paid so well. And when only the best will do, the Enforcer is number one on everyone’s speed dial.
Brando walks in, defying me once again after I told him to sit this meeting out. He insists on being here. The same way he insists on being with us every step of the way until we get Falcone. He’s never been one to admit weakness, even when it’s obvious. His eyes flicker over the group as he steps inside, and there’s a quiet but unmistakable authority in the way he moves. Even with his injury, he commands attention.
“Let’s get this over with,” Brando says, the words clipped, his voice hoarse but sharp.
The rest of the group takes their positions around the table, Brando moving to my other side with a short nod in the Enforcer’s direction.
“Falcone’s not done with us,” I mutter, my voice low, as I unfold a piece of paper and slide it across the table to Brando.
Brando takes it without hesitation, his eyes scanning the message before looking up, meeting each pair of eyes in the room. “What’s this?”
“Falcone’s shipment that’s leaving the docks on Thursday. It was supposed to be a night run, but he’s moved it up. Transport will now be in the morning.”
“We know he’s planning something big with this shipment,” Lucky interjects.
Brando doesn’t flinch. “Have we confirmed what’s in the shipment?”
The question hangs in the air like a weight, but I don’t answer right away. Instead, I glance over at the Enforcer, who’s been silent up until now, his face an unreadable mask. The Enforcer’s gaze flickers to Brando, his jaw tight as he takes a step forward, unfolding a map of the docks on the table, x marking several spots where Falcone’s containers are stored.
“I believe it’s human cargo,” the Enforcer says, his voice low, cutting through the tension. “Falcone’s men don’t just deal in weapons. He’s got connections, smuggling people across borders, selling them into slavery. This shipment is probably just another way of moving them, but this time, I believe it’s on a grander scale.”
The room goes still. The air feels heavy. The word “slavery” hangs there, a cold reminder of the cruelty that lurks in the world.
“Humans?” Rafi’s voice cracks, disbelief flashing across his face. “He’s trafficking people like cattle?”
Sometimes I forget that Rafi is of a different generation. What seems like it’s par for the course for us is an activists’ dream to someone like Rafi.
The Enforcer nods. “If we don’t stop him, there will be more blood on our hands than just the ones we’ve already spilled.”
A long silence falls, everyone in the room processing the weight of what the Enforcer just said. I can feel the tension tightening around us, like a noose slowly being drawn tighter. We’ve fought so hard, and yet this bastard—Falcone—hasn’t even begun to play his final hand. And he’s dealing in trade that is prohibited in our city, where we write the rules and we enforce them.
Brando, despite his injury, looks every bit the leader he is. His eyes burn with determination, not for the first time, but every time we face down a new threat. There’s something about the way he holds himself that makes the rest of us want to follow.
“This means the Andrade girls could be part of that cargo,” Brando says, his voice steady, unwavering.
“You think Falcone will show?” Lucky asks. “Knowing that we’re searching for him?”
It’s the Enforcer who speaks up, stepping forward to tell us confidently that Falcone never allows a shipment to leave before checking it himself.
“Most likely, that’s why he’s moved the timing; to throw us off. If he gets the shipment out earlier, we won’t be able to stop him.”
“We take the docks before he has a chance to move the cargo,” I tell them. “Full force.”
“We take whatever’s in those containers, and we burn everything else to the ground,” Brando adds.
“You’re not seriously considering going, are you?” I’m trying to keep the concern out of my tone, but it’s there, nonetheless. “You’re injured.” My voice is low, almost a growl, even knowing there’s nothing that could possibly dissuade my brother from joining the assault on the docks.
Brando doesn’t even flinch at the question. “I’m going. I’ll have no greater pleasure than putting that dog down once and for all.”
“You’ll slow us down,” I press, and all I can think of is what will happen if my brother finds himself in a delicate situation and is too slow to protect himself. I can’t risk losing him or any one of my brothers, let alone any of my men. “We don’t have time for that.”
Brando’s gaze hardens, his jaw set. “I said I’m going. I need to end this once and for all. Falcone can’t walk away from this.”
The room goes quiet, each man contemplating the gravity of the situation. I can see it in their eyes—they know better than to question Brando when his mind is set. The truth is, none of us would back down, not when the stakes are this high. Falcone is too dangerous to let slip away.
“I need to make sure that Brando is covered at all times.”
The words hang in the air like a shadow, thick with the weight of what’s to come. Betrayal gnaws at me, but I can’t afford to let that stop me. My brother is a goddamn bull, charging blindly into every storm, and I can’t keep up with him anymore. I’ve tried, but his stubbornness is a weapon in itself. Tomorrow, he’s heading to the docks—recklessly, as always—and I know damn well that I can’t trust him to keep his head straight. Not anymore.
“I can’t have eyes everywhere,” I murmur, the decision settling into my bones like cold steel. “I need your help to keep him safe.”
The Enforcer stands across from me, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. He’s been invaluable to us since he joined—no hesitation, no mercy, just pure efficiency. I trust him more than most, though I won’t admit it. Not aloud.
“That’s what you’re paying me for,” he says, his voice flat, like he’s reciting the same thing for the hundredth time.
I nod, though the guilt tugs at me. The fine line between protection and control is razor-thin, but I don’t have the luxury of second-guessing myself anymore. Brando’s reckless streak could tear everything apart.
“Keep an eye on him. But don’t let him catch on. If Brando even senses that we’re watching, he’ll go rogue, and I can’t afford that. When he’s angry, he’s blind. He won’t see reason.”
The Enforcer’s icy gaze doesn’t waver. He knows the stakes. He understands how dangerous Brando can be, especially when he’s pushed.
He gives a sharp nod, acknowledging my command without any need for words.
“What about the girl?”
I raise an eyebrow, caught off guard. “Mia?”
He watches me, his expression a study of quiet calculation. “She’s been in Falcone’s custody. Is it possible she’s been compromised?”
The question hits harder than I expected. He wants to know if there’s a possibility that Mia would betray us. I know the answer but saying it out loud makes it feel... uncertain.
“She’s with Brando. And if he trusts her, then she stays protected. No questions.”
I can see the skepticism flicker in his eyes, but he doesn’t voice it. He clears his throat, a tension building in his posture.
“Falcone has her sisters.” The words are low, dangerous. “That’s a weakness right there. People do unexpected things when they’re trying to save their own.”
The thought claws at me, gnawing at the back of my mind. I run a hand through my hair, the frustration building, but I force myself to remain calm. The last thing I need is for this to spiral further out of control. But I hear exactly what he’s saying. If push came to shove, who would Mia save – Brando or her sisters?
“He doesn’t have access to her anymore,” I say, the words heavy with a warning. “If Falcone wants to target someone, it’ll be her sisters. Not Mia. Not now.”
A faint flicker of doubt crosses his face, but he doesn’t question me. For now, the matter is closed.
I can feel the weight of the conversation settling between us, an uncomfortable silence wrapping its fingers around the room. But the Enforcer isn’t done. He shifts slightly, and I notice the subtle tension in his posture. It’s as if he’s been holding something back—something that he’s finally ready to release.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice darker now, like I know he’s about to cross a line.
His eyes flicker to mine, then he takes a small step forward, chin lifted slightly. His hands dig into his pockets, but there’s a slight tightness to his posture. He’s nervous.
Good.
The thought of a man like him, a killer without mercy, showing any sign of unease, gives me an edge.
“When this is over...” His voice falters, but only for a moment. Then he presses forward, words rushing out. “I want a seat at the table.”
I study him, taking a long moment to let the words sink in. My gaze sharpens, watching him carefully. He’s a mountain of muscle and muscle memory, but this? This is a gamble on his part. And it’s so not what I was expecting.
“Meaning?” I ask, my voice low, dangerous.
His jaw tightens, and for the briefest of seconds, I see a flicker of something else—something deeper. Desire. Hunger. But it’s all wrapped in that cold, unrelenting exterior. He’s not asking for power out of weakness, that much is clear.
“The Gatti table,” he says, his voice steady now, but his eyes betray a glint of something darker. “I’ve proven my loyalty, Scar. I’ve spilled blood for this family. Now I need to prove I’m more than a gun in someone’s back pocket.”
I step forward, my presence looming over him, the room suddenly thick with tension.
“Loyalty,” I mutter, my voice low. “Loyalty isn’t earned by asking for power. It’s shown through silence, through service. It’s something you live with, not something you demand.”
His gaze locks with mine, unflinching, unfazed. “I’ve been silent. I’ve served. Blood stains my hands, just as it stains yours. And if you’re asking me to prove my loyalty again, Scar, then this is the way to do it.”
The air between us crackles with unspoken tension. He’s right, in a way. The man’s been with us for years, loyal through blood and sweat. He’s never flinched when the job called for it. But this? This is different.
From the corner of the room, Brando steps into view, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. His gaze flicks between us with calculating precision.
“You want a seat at this table,” he says, his voice like smooth ice. “You don’t just earn it by loyalty. You earn it every day. Not through some entitled demand, but through proof. Proof that you put this family first—always. Above everything. Above even your own ambitions.”
The Enforcer stiffens at the words, but nods, his eyes flicking toward Brando. He doesn’t argue. “Understood.”
I step back, letting the tension dissipate, at least for now. “We’ll see how things unfold,” I say, dismissing him with a wave of my hand.
Without another word, the Enforcer turns and heads for the door. But as he passes Brando, he pauses just briefly, his dark gaze meeting my brother’s, before he leaves us alone.
Brando pushes off from the doorframe, stepping toward me as we fall into step together.
“He’s ambitious,” Brando comments, voice low but sharp.
“He’s proven his loyalty,” I answer, my eyes fixed ahead as we walk. “And we need every strong hand we can get right now.”
Brando’s lips curl slightly, a trace of approval in his expression. “Looks like you’ve already made up your mind.”
I glance at him briefly, then look away. “I’ve been waiting for him to prove it. I won’t make any decisions without consulting you and the others first. But with the Marone family now in the fold, we can’t keep spreading ourselves too thin.”
Allegra’s marriage to me gave us more than a blood oath—it gave us leverage over the Marone family, and with Don Marone’s health failing, it’s only a matter of time before we have to take the reins. Allegra’s the last heir to their empire, and she’s tied to us now, a part of our future. The union between the two families, as our father’s predicted, makes us untouchable—but it also means more territory, more responsibility. And the Gatti family isn’t the only one gunning for a piece of that pie.
Brando meets my gaze, his voice low but resolute. “He does seem like the most likely candidate.”
I nod, knowing full well how much this choice could shape everything. “He’s an asset. One we’re in desperate need of.”