Page 33 of Lucky
The city was already burning by the time I got the call. For years, I’ve given Scar the freedom to run things his way. It’s not an easy trust to place in someone, but Scar has proven himself time and time again. Not many can endure the kind of hell he’s been through and come out stronger for it. Yet, he and his brothers have defied the odds, pulling the families in the region together and taking them to new heights. Credit where it’s due: Scar Gatti is the backbone of this operation, and if there’s one thing he embodies above all else, it’s loyalty. It’s a rare currency in our world, and Scar has it in spades. Now more than ever, we need it.
I was impressed when Scar managed to control the situation with Frank Falcone without letting it spill into other territories. Scar doused that fire with precision and tact, maintaining peace where others would have failed. When trouble with the Vicci family began to escalate, he didn’t hesitate to keep me in the loop. I’ll admit, the fact that it’s festered this long is my failure, not his. I’m the one who decided to delay action, choosing inaction as the lesser evil. I’d like to say that decision has come back to haunt me, but that would be an untruth. In reality, I’vebeen watching things for a while, and I think the city could do with a good cleanup.
The Vicci dissidents have turned the city into a powder keg, lighting matches wherever they go. Their motives are a tangled web of grievances, but at the core, it seems to be a rebellion against Jacklyn Vicci’s leadership. Still, I can’t believe this chaos is all because of a woman. Jacklyn Vicci’s ascent to power may have been the trigger, but these problems began long before she took the throne. Learning her brother was shot is proof enough that this isn’t just about gender politics. It’s deeper than that, rooted in years of simmering tensions and unspoken resentments. Someone wants to destroy the city, and they’ve started with the weakest link – the crippled Vicci empire.
Now, the streets are unnervingly quiet, the kind of silence that makes the hairs on the back of one’s neck stand on end. People are scared. The usual hum of underworld dealings has been replaced by a pervasive, thready tension. Rumors spread like wildfire, faster than the flames consuming the city. Families are meeting in secret, desperate to find a way to stop the rising tide of chaos. But no resolution has been reached. We’ve fallen so far into this web of discord that only decisive, brutal action will restore the balance we’ve worked so hard to maintain.
In hindsight, it was inevitable. The Scarfone-Luciani feud was just the prelude, a warning of the war to come. Dissension has been brewing in the ranks for years, and no one knows that better than I do. It would be easy to lay all the blame at Jacklyn Vicci’s feet, but that’s a convenient lie. The truth is, Jacklyn’s only real crime is delaying the inevitable. If anything, her rise to power bought us time—time we squandered.
“The meeting’s set,” Scar announces, striding into the room. His presence is a force of nature, a mix of calm and danger that few can replicate. He tucks his gun into the waistband of hispants, letting his shirt fall over it in a casual gesture that belies the gravity of the moment. “The families will meet tonight.”
Scar has done well for himself, rising through the ranks not just with brute strength but with intelligence and strategy. I have no doubt he will continue to rise to any occasion, no matter how dire. His three brothers stand as pillars of support, a rare and enviable asset in our world. In a game where betrayal is the norm, the Gatti brothers’ unity is a weapon in itself. A man with a strong backbone and unwavering support can never truly fall.
“Your brothers need to be there,” I tell him, my voice firm.
Scar’s eyes flicker with surprise, a subtle reaction that tells me he hadn’t anticipated the request. But he doesn’t question me. He gives a short nod, a gesture of respect and acknowledgment. That’s another reason I trust Scar Gatti. He knows when to push back and when to fall in line. It’s a balance that few men ever master.
Tonight, the families will gather, and the course of this war will be decided. The city burns, but from these ashes, something stronger will rise. It has to. Because the alternative is unthinkable.
Four men fileinto the room, each man’s presence a palpable force. The heads of all five main families have come together in one room, a meeting that’s long overdue. I stand at the table as each man in turn approaches me and shakes my hand. None of this kissing the Don’s hand bullshit – a handshake is as good as it gets, and that’s more than enough. Caleph and The Jekyll stand to my left, while Scar and his brothers stand to my right.
Victor Moreno, a sharp-featured man with calculating eyes, sits at one end of the table. He is a strategist, known for hisunflinching pragmatism and a quiet ruthlessness that makes him both respected and feared. Victor has built his empire on precision, any hint of chaos an affront to his sensibilities. His voice, low and measured, cuts through the silence.
“The city’s shutting down,” Victor Moreno says, as he takes a seat, turning his chair so he can fold one knee over the other casually. “You come to clean up someone else’s mess again?”
The insult is aimed at the Gatti family, who have stood at the edge of each of the two most recent conflicts. Scar doesn’t flinch at his words, tempered beyond the petty squabbles the man brings to the room, but it’s Lucky who steps forward, hands clenched at his sides, preparing for battle.
I raise my hand, and immediately he stops, steps back and stands down. But I can understand his anger at the sleight. I feel it. I live it. The first battle was their mother’s doing, it was not of their choosing. And the second battle is one they fought trying to save three sisters, a battle which cracked a human trafficking ring that saved dozens of lives. That trumps everything for me.
Victor Moreno is simply flexing. It’s his one chance to prove himself the perfect candidate to lead the city; I haven’t yet appointed a head family, but I know he believes I favor the Gatti family. Perhaps I do. They are, after all, the one family that is in regular contact with me, updating me on everything that happens in this playground in my absence. And they are loyal to a fault, something I can’t say with all certainty about anyone else in this room.
“If you so much asdeignto insult another family elder again, consider yourself expelled. Your brand of verbiage is exactly what brought us here today.”
Victor Moreno’s eyes flick around the table, looking for support he doesn’t get. He’s not usually a man that needs to speak to make his presence known. He justis—the kind of guy who walks into a room and makes everyone else shrink backinstinctively because he’s larger than life. But in this moment, he himself shrinks back, becoming as one with the leather on which he sits, as I cut him down to size. He needs to remember which chair he sits in and who put him there.
I won’t allow the likes of men like Moreno to add fuel to an already raging fire. The city is on the brink. Unrest is everywhere, and no one has the power to hold it back without actually waging a full-blown war. Some of the lesser-known families are splitting apart, their greed and ambitions bubbling over, their chaos and madness taking no prisoners. And Jacklyn… Jacklyn Vicci has unwittingly become the eye of the storm that’s brewing.
Across from him, Rudy Cavallo leans back in his chair, a smirk playing at his lips. Rudy is the wildcard, a man who thrives on unpredictability. You just never know which way things are going to go with him. His dark suit does little to hide his devil-may-care attitude, but beneath the charm is a man who knows how to wield power like a weapon.
Don Pietro Marone, Scar’s father-in-law, clears his throat. Pietro is the eldest at the table, a man whose age has not dulled his imposing presence. His silver hair and deep-set eyes carry the weight of decades in the game. Had it not been for the recent attempt on his life, he may still have the spring of youth in his step. Since his one and only child’s marriage to Scar Gatti, he’s for the most part unofficially stepped back from day-to-day operations, handing the reigns over to Scar and his daughter Allegra, who together now own one of the biggest industries in the city. Hotels, resorts, restaurants…and they even just purchased a theme park.
Maxim Donelli, ever the diplomat, steeples his fingers and surveys the room. His calm demeanor belies the influence he wields, his every word and every move carefully chosen.
Don Marone is the one to break the silence. “I think I speak for all of us when I say we’re happy to have you here, Dante.”
The words carry the weight of respect, and his voice holds a gravitas that commands attention. Don Pietro Marone and my father have a history that stretches back decades, their bond forged in blood and loyalty during the old days. There are few men left who remember the world as they once knew it, and Marone is one of them.
His acknowledgment isn’t just formality—it’s a mark of trust. I nod in his direction, a small gesture of gratitude for his hospitality and the respect he’s extended. It’s not often one receives such a warm welcome in a world where alliances are fragile and power shifts on a dime.
I shift my gaze, my eyes trailing between the men, trying to read the room, trying to gauge the temperature.
“There are a few matters we need to discuss today,” I begin, settling into the chair at the head of the table. Scar and Caleph take their places on either side of me, their sharp, calculating gazes scanning the room like predators assessing their prey as the others move to various corners of the room, taking up positions along the walls like sentinels. Watching. Waiting. As is my habit, I trail my fingers deliberately across the smooth surface of the table before resting them still, a subtle yet clear signal of authority that leaves no question about who’s in charge.
“The first issue we must address is the dissension in the ranks,” I begin, my tone sharp and commanding. “This chaos must end—and it ends now. For the moment, it’s confined to the smaller families, but it’s only a matter of time before it infects our own.”
“Jacklyn Vicci,” Victor Moreno’s voice cuts through the room, drawing everyone’s attention in his direction. “It all started with her. She’s a liability; a woman with no heir—a walking target.”
I lean back in my chair and spread my arms wide. “We’ve come a long way from the stone age, Don Moreno.” I pause to cut him down to size with my eyes. “My wife rules her own empire. As does Scar’s,” I remind him.