Chapter 21
The peace at the Rizzano estate was a fragile illusion, broken three weeks later by the harsh ringing of the encrypted red phone on Alessandro’s mahogany desk. The bright cinematic sunlight poured through the windows, but the room instantly felt freezing. He picked it up, his cold, intimidating eyes narrowing into lethal slits. "Speak," Alessandro commanded, his voice a low, vibrating hum of absolute danger. "Boss, it's Dante," the underboss reported, his American accent tight with tension. "We have a breach on the northern borders. The Falcone syndicate is mobilizing. They saw the Moretti collapse as an opportunity and just hijacked two of our weapons transports on the interstate." Alessandro’s sharply defined jawline locked into stone. The Falcones were a ruthless, undisciplined cartel that relied on chaos rather than strategy. "They are testing the fences," Alessandro analyzed smoothly, the artistic tattoos on his neck flexing. "If we do not sever the hand that reaches into our territory, they will try to take the arm." "What are your orders, Alessandro?" Dante asked. "Prepare the heavy assault teams," Alessandro whispered, a terrifying, sociopathic calm washing over his handsome face. "We are going to the railyard. I want every Falcone soldier bleeding on the tracks by midnight."
