CHAPTER 26
The room was colder than the rest of the warehouse a back storage unit converted for only one purpose. Death
The walls were steel.
The floor had drains and no windows, just the heavy hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional echo of metal scraping against metal.
Antonio was strapped to a steel chair bolted into the floor wrists tied so tight the ropes had rubbed skin raw. One eye swollen shut. Dried blood on his lip. His shirt hung open, soaked with sweat and fear.
Marcello stood to his left, not touching him. Just watching. Still in his black shirt, clean, calm sleeves rolled to the elbow.
Luca leaned against the wall opposite. Arms crossed. Silent.
The only sound was Antonio’s breathing ragged, shallow. Every inhale sounded like a man waiting to drown.
Then Luca pushed off the wall.
He moved slowly, picking up a pair of gloves from the tray beside him, snapping them on without rush.
“Last chance, Antonio,” he said, voice flat. “Tell us who you’re working for”
“I—I already told you. Just this guy. Dante—”
Luca backhanded him so fast the sound cracked through the room. Antonio’s head snapped to the side, a sharp gasp escaping his mouth.
“You’re lying,” Marcello said softly.
“No” Antonio’s voice broke. “I swear”
Marcello crouched in front of him, eye level, tone as steady as stone.
“You sold us out. Not once. Not twice. You knew our drop rotations and location names. Is there someone else inside.”
Antonio shook his head, panicked and coughing. “No .... There's no....there’s no.. inside—”
Luca moved again.
He picked up the pliers from the metal tray.
“Lies” Luca counterd. “ I'm sure you didn’t do this for fun, so who is he? ”
“I don’t—”
Luca slammed the pliers onto Antonio’s hand — fingers spread wide against the table. Antonio screamed.
The pressure wasn’t instant, luca didn’t crush anything, he just held the pliers on the joint of Antonio’s index finger and waited.
The threat was worse than the pain.
“You want to lie again?” Luca asked.
Antonio was panting, veins rising on his throat.
“Okay—okay—I don’t know the name. I swear. They called themselves I Lupi—The Wolves. That’s what they said.”
Marcello tilted his head. That name hadn’t crossed his radar in months.
“How did they contact you?” he asked.
Antonio trembled. “They left a card. It didn't have a number. Just a symbol a black wolf's head. Told me to show up at the Vescari club after hours and they were already there.”
Luca squeezed slightly.
Antonio screamed again.
Marcello stood. Walked to the tray. Picked up the blade, a thin, curved surgical scalpel.
“What did they offer?”
Antonio was crying now. “Money. Protection, A way out your sindicate and a rise in the ranks.”
“You wanted out?” Luca asked, quieter now.
“I thought maybe—maybe they’d kill me if I didn’t take the deal. They knew about our ops, boss. They knew names. Yours. His.” He jerked his chin toward Marcello.
Marcello paused.
That changed things, they weren’t just recruiting traitors, they’d been watching.
The Don moved behind Antonio and ran the flat of the blade along the side of his neck. Not cutting. Just reminding him.
“Who else have they spoken to?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
“I—I only know one other name. One of the drivers. Nino. He’s been slipping manifests through customs for them.”
Marcello lowered the knife.
Luca stepped back.
Another silence filled the room.
They had what they needed, or at least not everything.
Marcello stepped forward again, voice colder than before.
“What’s their next move?”
“I don’t know—”
Marcello didn’t hesitate. He drove the blade lightly into Antonio’s shoulder — a sharp, clean slice.
Antonio screamed again, shaking, blood soaking through the fabric.
“Next move,” Marcello repeated.
“They’re planning to hit the Mexican shipment. The high-value one coming in Friday. I overheard them talking about pulling it before it even hits port.”
Marcello looked at Luca then wiped the blade clean and tossed it back onto the tray.
“Who’s the inside contact?”
Antonio’s voice cracked. “I don’t know. I swear. They said someone would make sure the port clearance gets delayed. That’s it.”
Marcello finally nodded once.
He looked at Luca.
“We have enough.”
Antonio sat slumped in the same chair, eyelids fluttering from the sedative, lips dry and cracked. The cut on his shoulder still seeped blood, staining his shirt in slow, lazy streaks.
His head lolled to one side, but he wasn’t unconscious.
Not yet.
Not until they were done.
Marcello stood in front of him, gloves on now, black and spotless. He stared down at Antonio like he wasn’t a man just another loose end, a problem to be handled and a rot to be carved out.
Luca stood to the side, silent, jacket off, his hands smeared faintly with red that hadn’t quite washed off. The shadows under his eyes were sharp, but his stare was steady.
Antonio’s breath hitched as he tried to speak. “Please... please, boss... I gave you everything...”
Marcello didn’t answer.
He reached for the small cloth roll on the tray which had, Wire cutters, knives, bone saw and Clamps then slowly unwrapped it.
Antonio whimpered. “You said... If .. I ..gave names—”
“You gave us what you knew,” Marcello said calmly. “But you still did it.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“You meant to take money from men who want us dead. You meant to put our family in danger.”
Marcello lifted the bolt driver. Turned it slowly in his hand, admiring the weight.
Antonio shook violently. “I swear—boss—I didn’t tell them everything, I held things back, I swear—”
Luca walked closer.
“You think that helps?” he said, his voice cold steel. “That just means you chose what to sell. You knew it was betrayal and you still did it anyway.”
Antonio sobbed now. “You don’t have to do this... you don’t—”
Marcello crouched.
“There’s no coming back,” he said softly. “You chose them. So now, you pay the price .”
Then he stood.
Luca moved behind Antonio, pulling the cords tighter across his chest, forcing his spine rigid against the steel chair.
Antonio's chest puffed and huffed in panic , marcello picked up the pliers and reached for Antonio’s left hand.
One finger at a time.
Crack.
Antonio’s scream tore through the room.
Then another.
Crack.
Luca didn’t flinch at the sounds and marcello didn’t rush either. Each break was clean and precise. A language of pain written into bone.
After the fourth finger, he paused. Antonio’s face was drenched in tears, body shaking with each breath.
Marcello stared at the ruined hand.
“Traitors don’t get to live,” he said quietly. “So we take them out.”
He stood. Walked to the side wall and pressed the intercom.
“Bring the barrel.”
Moments later, the door opened. Two men entered silently, They wheeled in a 55-gallon drum, steel and sealed at the base. The inside stank of acid.
Luca nodded at them and they left as quietly as they came.
Marcello turned back.
Antonio whimpered, barely conscious now. “Please... I was just scared... I was scared...”
Marcello’s voice was soft but cold sarcastic and calculated.
“You should be very scared now.” he said giving a psychotic smile
Luca moved fast and untied the cords.
Antonio collapsed to the ground, limp and broken. He couldn’t move. Could barely raise his head.
Marcello crouched again — not close, just enough to meet his bloodshot eyes.
“You’ll never be found,” he said.”
Luca grabbed him by the collar and dragged him across the floor, metal scraping beneath his boots. Antonio screamed weakly, his voice hoarse, body twitching.
Marcello lifted the lid from the drum.
Steam rose.
Luca didn’t hesitate. He shoved Antonio in headfirst, arms limp, legs thrashing once, then still.
The lid slammed shut. Tight.
And just like that he was gone.
Marcello wiped his gloves on a white cloth and tossed it in the trash.The smell of acid hung in the air, faint but sharp, like the aftertaste of violence.
No one else remained in the room.
The steel door had closed minutes ago, sealing off the cold room with only the two of them inside.
Marcello stood at the sink, washing the blood from his gloves. His movements were precise. Almost too slow, like he was thinking with each swipe of the cloth.
Luca leaned against the far wall, arms crossed again, like he hadn’t just dragged a man to his death. His jacket was back on now, collar turned up. Clean, but something simmered under the surface.
Silence.
Then Marcello spoke, voice low.
“They called themselves I Lupi?”
Luca nodded. “yeah .”
Marcello dried his hands. Turned to face him.
“I haven’t heard that name since the war with Sicilians.”
“Me either,” Luca said. “They went underground after that shootout with the Sicilians. Everyone assumed they were finished.”
Marcello exhaled through his nose. “Looks like they learned how to hide.”
“Or how to adapt.”
Luca stepped away from the wall, boots echoing faintly on the concrete as he paced once, then stopped.
“They’ve been watching us. Closely. That means we’ve got more than one leak.”
“Agreed.” Marcello folded the towel. “They knew about the Mexican shipment. That’s not public intel. That’s internal.”
Luca’s jaw tightened. “And if Antonio was getting briefed through the Vescari club, then someone with access to the port manifests is feeding them.”
Marcello moved to the table and picked up the file he’d left earlier, the same one with cargo manifests and driver rotations. He tapped it once, his mind already slicing through it line by line.
“Start with Nino. The driver. If he’s talking, we find out who he’s talking to.”
Luca nodded. “I’ll have him picked up before sundown.”
Marcello flipped the file open. His fingers moved slower this time. “I Lupi..I don't think it's money they are after.”
“No. They come for territory.”
Marcello’s eyes lifted. He met Luca’s gaze. “That means this was a probe.”
“They’re testing our walls.”
Marcello closed the file.
“And now we show them who we are.”
Luca gave a slight nod.
“You want the Vescari club handled?”
“Yes.. put someone there to watch everything that goes on in there and they report back to us, it has to be someone you trust or do it yourself, ,” Marcello said, calm.
Luca’s face didn’t change. “Consider it done.”
Marcello turned toward the barrel one last time, his voice a murmur now, like a promise not meant for anyone but the dark.
“If they think they can take what’s ours without consequences, then they don't really know who we are.”
He faced Luca again.
Then, finally, Marcello said:
“Handle the club. Find the leak. I trust you'll do this alone since we don't know how many people are compromised.”
Luca’s voice was cold again. “ yes Don.”