Chapter 24 Silvo
SILVO
Ipace back and forth in my study, the weight of the situation bearing down on me. The phone rings, shattering the tense silence.
“Yeah?” I answer.
“Boss, we got a problem.” It’s Paulie, one of my top lieutenants. His voice is laced with urgency.
“What is it?” I demand, my grip tightening on the receiver.
“It’s the Morettis. They made a move on our shipment coming in from Miami. Two of our guys are down, and the merchandise is gone.”
White-hot anger surges through me. “How do you know it was them?”
“They left their calling card, boss. Tommy and Rico were both shot execution-style—a single bullet to the back of the head. And they left Moretti family crests spray-painted on the warehouse walls. Big as day, can’t miss ‘em. They wanted us to know it was them.”
My knuckles turn white as I grip the phone. That’s Nico Moretti’s signature move—making sure everyone knows who struck the blow. “Details. Now.”
Paulie launches into the report. “They hit the dock warehouse around midnight—killed Tommy and Rico, both with that distinctive Moretti MO. Took three hundred keys of product and torched the building. But before they torched it, they spray-painted those damn Moretti crests everywhere—on the walls, the loading bay doors, even on our delivery trucks. Local cops are all over it now, and our Miami capo, Lorenzo, is scrambling to contain the situation.”
“Those arrogant bastards,” I snarl. The Moretti family crest—a crowned lion—has been their symbol for generations. Leaving it at a crime scene is a blatant declaration of war.
“Lorenzo says the suppliers are spooked,” Paulie continues. “Word’s spreading fast that the Morettis are making a play for Miami. They’re hitting our clubs next, boss. We need you down there.”
My jaw clenches. This isn’t just about one shipment. This is a coordinated attack on our entire Miami territory, and the Morettis are making damn sure everyone knows they’re behind it.
“Tell Lorenzo I’ll be there tomorrow,” I say. “And Paulie? I want photos of those crests. Document everything. The Morettis want to make this personal? We’ll give them personal.”
When Paulie confirms and hangs up, I slam the phone down, my mind racing. The audacity of leaving their family crest—it’s not just an attack, it’s a taunt. Nico’s telling me he’s not afraid, that he’s coming for everything we’ve built.
Miami is our gateway to the Caribbean and South American markets.
If the Morettis establish a foothold there, they could choke off half our revenue stream.
And those damn crests spray-painted everywhere?
That’s Nico making sure every criminal organization in Miami knows the De Lucas are weak, vulnerable.
I need to go personally—show our people we’re not backing down, shore up our defenses, and send the Morettis a message that this aggression will be met with overwhelming force.
Grabbing my jacket, I stride into the living room where Carmela is reading.
“We have a situation,” I say, my voice clipped. “The Morettis hit one of our shipments in Miami. Two men dead, product gone, and they left their family crest spray-painted all over the crime scene.”
Her eyes widen, the book forgotten in her lap. “They wanted you to know it was them.”
“Exactly.” I run a hand through my hair. “It’s a declaration of war. Nico’s making a play for our Miami territory.”
The resolve in her gaze steadies me. She’s in this with me, no matter what. “What are you going to do?”
“I need to fly to Miami, handle this personally. Our operations there are under threat, and I need to stabilize the situation before we lose more ground.”
Carmela stands, crossing to me. “How long will you be gone?”
“Three, maybe four days.” I pull her close. “I need to meet with Lorenzo, assess the damage, and make sure the Morettis understand there will be consequences.”
She nods, her jaw set with determination I’ve come to admire. “Then go. Do what needs to be done.”
“I’m calling a meeting with my capos first,” I tell her. “We need to strategize our response. Then I’ll arrange the flight.”
Carmela cups my face in her hands. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. I need you to come back to me.”
The vulnerability in her voice nearly breaks me. “Always,” I vow.
Leaning down, I kiss her fiercely. “Stay here. I’ll have extra security posted while I’m gone.”
With one last lingering look, I turn and head out, my mind already plotting. The Morettis have awoken a beast, and they’ll soon realize the grave mistake they’ve made.
I slide into the driver’s seat of my sleek black Ferrari, the leather cool against my skin. Gripping the steering wheel, I take a deep breath, trying to channel the rage into focus.
As I navigate the busy streets of Philadelphia, my mind keeps returning to those spray-painted crests. The Morettis could have just taken the shipment and disappeared. Instead, they made it a spectacle—a public humiliation designed to make us look weak.
I pull up to our headquarters, a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of the city. My men are already gathered inside, their faces grim. As I stride into the room, all eyes turn to me, waiting for direction.
“Gentlemen,” I begin, my voice cutting through the tension.
“The Morettis have made their move. They hit our Miami shipment, killed two of our men, and made off with three hundred keys of product.” I pause, letting that sink in.
“But that’s not all. They left their family crest spray-painted all over the warehouse—on the walls, the doors, our trucks.
They wanted everyone to know it was them. ”
Angry mutters ripple through the room. The disrespect of it—the sheer arrogance—has every man in here ready for blood.
“This is a declaration of war,” I continue, my voice hard.
“The Morettis think they can intimidate us, humiliate us publicly, but they’ve made a grave mistake.
I’m flying to Miami today to personally oversee our response.
We’ll retaliate, and we’ll do it in a way that leaves no doubt about our power. ”
I point to the map spread across the table. “Lorenzo reports they’re making moves on our other Miami operations—our clubs, our distribution network, even approaching our suppliers. We need to shut this down before we lose the entire territory.”
Sal, one of my most experienced soldiers, speaks up. “What do you need from us, boss?”
“Reinforce our positions here in Philly while I’m gone. Double security on all our key operations. The Morettis might try to hit us here while I’m distracted in Miami.” I scan the room. “And I want to know how they got that shipment schedule. Someone talked, and I want to know who.”
I turn to Leo, one of my most trusted men. “Leo, you’re in charge of security at the house while I’m gone. My wife doesn’t leave the property without an armed escort. Post men at every entrance, rotate shifts so no one gets complacent.”
Leo straightens. “Understood, boss. The house will be locked down tight.”
“Fed will coordinate operations here with our father,” I continue, gesturing to my brother. “Any major decisions need approval from both of them. And remember—we’re smart about this. No unnecessary risks. We hit them hard, but we do it cleanly.”
As the meeting concludes, the men file out, their expressions determined. This is what the De Luca family does—we stand together, we protect our own, and we never back down.
I pull Fed aside as the room empties. “You’re staying at the house with Carmela while I’m gone. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
Fed’s usual playfulness evaporates. “You think they might make a move on her?”
“The Morettis left those crests as a message—they want me to know they can strike at will.” My jaw tightens. “If they’re bold enough to hit our Miami operation, they might be bold enough to go after my wife. I need you there, Fed. You and Leo.”
“On my life, brother,” Fed says solemnly. “Nothing will happen to her.”
I grip his shoulder. “I’m counting on that.”
Leaving the warehouse, I climb back into my car. My phone buzzes—Marco calling.
“I heard about Miami,” Marco says when I answer. “You need legal cover for the trip?”
“No. This is personal, not business. But I need you to keep an eye on things here. If the cops start sniffing around those spray-painted crests, we need to make sure nothing leads back to our other operations.”
“Already on it,” Marco assures me. “And Silvo? Watch your back down there. The Morettis are playing dirty.”
“When don’t they?” I mutter before hanging up.
As I pull into our driveway, I see Carmela waiting for me on the front steps. Her face shows concern, but there’s a steely determination in her eyes that matches my own.
I approach her, cupping her face in my hands. “I’ll be gone three, maybe four days.”
She nods, leaning into my touch. “Just... come back to me.”
In that moment, I realize just how much she’s come to mean to me. This isn’t just about protecting my family’s interests anymore. It’s about protecting her, us, what we’ve built together.
I pull her close, inhaling the scent of her hair. “Always,” I whisper, allowing myself this moment of vulnerability before the storm that’s about to break.
I pull back from our embrace just enough to capture her lips with mine. The kiss is desperate, heated, and filled with everything I can’t put into words. My hands slide into her hair as I deepen the kiss, tasting her, memorizing every sensation.
My chest aches with the thought of leaving her. These past months, she’s become more than just my arranged wife. She’s my anchor, my fire, my everything. The way she matches my intensity, challenges me, drives me wild. I never expected to find this with her.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she presses closer. I groan into her mouth, backing her against the wall of the house. I need to feel her, to brand this moment into my memory before I leave for Miami.
“You’re mine to come back to,” I whisper against her lips.
My mind races with all the dangers waiting in Miami. The Morettis won’t stop at just one shipment. They’ll keep pushing, testing our limits. And here I am, leaving Carmela behind when all I want is to stay and protect her myself.
But I have no choice. I’m the head of the De Luca family. This is my responsibility, my burden to bear. I have to handle this personally, show strength, or we’ll appear weak to our enemies.
I break the kiss, resting my forehead against hers. Her breath comes in short pants, matching my own ragged breathing. Those fierce green eyes lock onto mine, full of understanding and something deeper that makes my heart clench.
“Fed’s staying here with you,” I murmur, stroking her cheek. “Leo and the security team will be posted around the property. No one gets near you without going through them first.”
But it’s not the same as being here myself. Not the same as holding her in my arms, knowing she’s safe. The thought of being apart, even for a few days, feels like physical pain.
I capture her lips again, pouring all my conflicted emotions into the kiss. Her soft moan nearly breaks my resolve to leave.
I force myself to pull back, my breathing ragged. The look in her eyes nearly undoes me. Our arranged marriage has become something real, something vital, and now I have to leave her.
“I’ll call you every day,” I promise, running my thumb across her lower lip. “This won’t take long.”
Carmela nods, her fingers digging into my shoulders. “Make them pay, Silvo.”
Her bloodthirsty response makes me smirk despite everything. She understands this life—my life—better than I ever expected.
My phone buzzes—my driver is waiting with the car. It’s time.
Upstairs, I grab my bag, which Carmela packed for me, taking one last look at our bedroom—the bed we share, the life we’re building together.
As we descend the stairs, I feel her strength beside me. In just a few months, she’s become not just my wife but my partner in every sense. Whatever happens in Miami, I know I’m coming back to her.
At the door, Fed appears, his expression serious for once. “I’ve got her, Silvo. Go handle business.”
I nod, then turn to Carmela one last time. “Stay inside. Stay safe.”
“Just come home,” she whispers.
With one final lingering look, I force myself out the door and into the waiting car. Miami awaits, and with it, a reckoning the Morettis won’t soon forget.