4. Dangerous Familiarities
Dangerous Familiarities
Ezekiel
T he club is packed, every table filled. It’s Saturday night, and something in the air indicates a storm is brewing. I scan the crowd—muscles tight and senses heightened—almost immediately spotting the source of my tension.
Members of the Columbus mafia are here, and I don’t like it one bit.
Sebastian leans against the bar, chatting up a couple of young women who are oblivious to the dangerous company surrounding them.
I shake my head at his antics. He might think he can charm his way through any situation but tonight feels different.
I glance back at the shadows in the corners—old faces and new threats.
I catch a glimpse of Marcus Barone among them—the leader of the ever-growing Columbus mafia—his smug expression hinting at some underlying agenda.
My gut twists as suspicion creeps in. I’ve spent my years in Columbus fighting to stay under the radar.
I thought I’d succeeded. Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe they know who I am. Maybe they’ve pieced together my connection to New York.
Seb laughs, throwing his head back like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“Zeke!” His voice booms over the music as he raises his glass in a toast to no one in particular.
I force a smile but keep scanning. If Nicolo’s involved—if he’s orchestrating something to drag me back into that world—I need to be prepared.
“Everything okay?” Eli stands beside me, arms crossed over his chest, a wall of muscle ready for trouble.
“Just keeping an eye out.” I tilt my head toward a group of men huddled near the stage, their whispers drowned out by laughter and chatter. “Something feels off.”
Eli narrows his eyes at them before looking back at me. “You think they know?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, feeling the tension coil tighter inside me like a spring ready to snap. “But we can’t afford any missteps tonight.”
“Just tell me what you need, boss.” Eli maintains his stance, arms crossed, looking more menacing than he really is.
“No matter what happens,” I say, locking eyes with Eli, “don’t let anyone leave without being checked. Be subtle. I want to know if they know who we really are.”
He nods sharply and heads toward Seb, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I breathe deeply, trying to steady myself while tension rises around me. But with every laugh echoing from nearby tables and every drink poured down throats, it’s more likely trouble is already here—waiting just out of sight.
I slip into a secluded table in the back, the shadows swallowing me whole. It’s a perfect vantage point to keep an eye on the crowd without drawing attention.
I scan the faces—familiar and foreign alike—before settling on the group near the stage. Marcus Barone’s laugh booms above the music, a wolf among sheep.
Marcus stands at the helm of this burgeoning mafia group in Columbus, his presence commanding and unmistakable.
It’s a position he didn’t just stumble into.
He clawed his way to the top, navigating through the murky waters of crime and power.
The air around him crackles with a volatile mix of ambition and danger, the hammer of his influence pressing down on this city.
As I watch him, I sense the reckless decisions he makes in his quest for respect, each choice laden with the potential for destruction.
Eli joins me, plopping down across the table with that usual stone-faced expression. He leans in, lowering his voice. “What’s our move? We can’t let them keep gaining ground.”
“Thought about it.” I nod toward Marcus, watching him down another drink. “But we need to be careful. No doubt Nicolo’s responsible for Marcus’s climb. He’s not going to let this slide easily if we act too aggressively.”
“You think Nicolo’s involved in this?” Eli’s voice is low, a hint of disbelief threaded through his tone. His deep-set eyes narrow in contemplation.
I nod slowly. “Something tells me Nicolo created this entire unit and put these men in power. It feels like his signature, calculated and cold.”
Eli furrows his brows, his gaze shifting to Marcus’s table, where the tension grows like a deadly virus. “Why would he do that?”
“To get back at me for leaving,” I reply, the bitterness of my past choices surfacing like a wound that never quite healed. The thought of Nicolo orchestrating this group of criminals stirs a mix of anger and dread, a reminder of the shadows I thought I had escaped.
Eli raises an eyebrow, skepticism etched across his face. “What if we make him a special drink? Just a little something to take him out of the picture permanently? No one would ever know it was us.”
The idea lingers like a sweet poison, tempting but dangerous. I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “As appealing as that sounds, it’s not that simple. Nicolo’s got eyes everywhere. A hit on Marcus would raise too many questions.”
Eli frowns, clearly frustrated with my hesitation. “So what do you propose? We sit back and let them take over our territory? Force us back into that life? We worked hard to carve out this area of peace.”
“Not sit back.” I push my glass away, trying to suppress my anger. “We need to strategize quietly and strike when they least expect it. Hit them where it hurts most.”
He tilts his head, contemplating my words but still unconvinced. “And how do you plan to do that? They’re getting bolder by the day.”
I glance around again. Paranoia buzzes at my edges as if someone could overhear us discussing our plans.
“Unnoticed,” I reply firmly, locking eyes with Eli again. “Every move we make has to be subtle—silent even—like shadows moving through darkness. Like ghosts.”
He nods slowly, finally understanding where I’m coming from, but his frustration is still evident in his expression.
“We don’t want Nicolo sniffing around,” I continue quietly. “Whatever happens next has to look like just another night at Club Velvet Petal.”
The noise of the club fades into a dull roar as Eli leans in closer, his eyes focused and intense. I watch him, calculating the best way to turn this thorn into an advantage. The room is still swirling with life, laughter spilling from tables, but my mind races through options.
“We hit them where it hurts,” I say, laying out my thoughts like pieces on a chessboard. “We know their routes, their suppliers. We can sabotage shipments—make them look incompetent.”
Eli nods, a spark igniting in his eyes, lightening his dark brown irises to a glowing amber. “Yeah, but we can’t just disrupt things without leaving a trail. If they figure out it’s us—”
“They won’t,” I assure him, confidence spilling from my lips as I plot every detail in my head. “We’ll create distractions—false intel that sends them scrambling. Make them chase ghosts while we take care of business.”
He leans back, the implications our conversation pressing down on both of us.
If we fail at our task, this could lead to war.
“And how do we manage that without tipping off Nicolo? Aren’t you afraid he’ll connect the vigilante activities and point a finger at us?
If we start doing the same things here, Nicolo will figure us out. ”
“Old contacts, maybe.” I reply. “I still have connections in New York—guys who owe me favors. They can help take the scent off us. Make sure Nicolo suspects other organized crime families trying to weaken his power.”
The idea settles between us, heavy yet promising. My past is a double-edged sword. It gave me knowledge and insight but also tied me to men who would gladly stab me in the back if given half a chance.
“Alright,” Eli says slowly while weighing our options. “We can use that to our advantage. A few calls to the right people could spread misinformation about shipments coming in from Detroit or Chicago families.”
I nod. “Exactly. We leak rumors about low-quality product heading this way and too New York. Let’s see if we can sniff out the connection. That’s the only way we’ll know what we’re up against.”
“But we need to act fast,” he warns. “We drag our feet and Nicolo could be at our door.”
“Then we don’t drag our feet.” My voice sharpens as I make eye contact with Eli again, determination surging through me like fire igniting dry wood. “We strike fast and quietly.”
His eyebrows lift at my intensity, and it’s clear he shares in my conviction.
“I’ll reach out to Tony,” he says finally, breaking into a grin that matches mine now. “See how quickly he can get things rolling.”
“Good.” I stand up taller, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
The plan is forming—a tangible thing rather than just thoughts rattling around my head—and it feels exhilarating to push back against Nicolo’s looming shadow once more.
“No more games,” I murmur under my breath as resolve hardens within me. “Let’s go talk to our guests. Make our rounds to our VIPs. It’s time to figure out if Marcus Barone knows who I really am.”
Eli stands beside me. His excitement radiates like heat off asphalt in July.
Together we weave through this twisted web of crime and chaos once again—not as pawns but as players ready to reclaim what was ours all along.
Eli walks beside me, his presence steadying as we navigate the throng of bodies. We’ve stopped at each group of VIPs to make our greetings, acting like any good nightclub owners who care about their clients’ satisfaction.
My eyes land on Marcus, his eyes sharp and calculating, assessing everything around him. He doesn’t miss a detail, just like Nicolo taught me to do in my past life.
Something tells me I’m not going to like this conversation, but I need to know how much Marcus knows about me. The man shouldn’t even know my name, but my gut tells me that’s highly unlikely. His presence leaves me uneasy.
As we reach the table, Marcus looks up from his drink. His expression shifts from curiosity to a sly grin that barely touches his eyes.
“Ezekiel King.” His voice is low and dripping with faux friendliness. “What brings you to my table?”