"Boss," Lorenzo said on the other end, his voice clipped and steady, "what must we do with the rat?"

Massimo’s expression hardened, his hand tightening around the glass of scotch in his grip. The scent of oak and smoke filled the quiet space of Don Sanchiano’s study.

"Lock him up in the cellar. Ensure you give him just enough food to keep him going. We’ll be home tomorrow," Massimo responded coolly.

There was a muffled rustle in the background, the faint echo of boots on concrete, the ...