Chapter 13
Silvio groaned, clutching his ribs as he stared up at the imposing figure standing over him. The overhead fluorescent lights cast stark, dramatic shadows across Lorenzo's face, emphasizing his rugged, movie-star masculinity and the lethal, unforgiving nature of his soul.
"I told you," Lorenzo whispered, his voice a low, vibrating hum that echoed off the concrete. "The price for demanding my blood is paid in yours."
"Moretti... Moretti will kill you," Silvio spat, blood leaking from his nose. "He has the numbers. He has the politicians."
"Moretti is an old man clinging to an empire that died the moment he thought he could steal a Ravelli child," Lorenzo corrected, his American accent crisp and sharp. "He relies on debts and extortion. I rely on loyalty and violence. You are going to deliver a message to him, Silvio."
Silvio frowned, his bravado fading as he realized Lorenzo wasn't going to kill him. "What message?"
Lorenzo stepped closer, his polished shoe pressing down on Silvio's wrist, pinning his hand to the cold floor. The pressure wasn't enough to break the bone, but it was enough to cause agonizing pain.
"Tell him the Mercer family is gone," Lorenzo said, perfectly measuring the pauses between his words. "Tell him the shipping debt they owed him is now owed to me. And tell him that by sunset tomorrow, I will take the Moretti family crest and drown it in the East River."
Lorenzo lifted his foot, turning his back on the bleeding enforcer.
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"Let him run," Lorenzo commanded his operatives, ignoring Silvio's confused, terrified stare. "I want Moretti to see the fear in his lieutenant's eyes before he dies."
Lorenzo walked away from the wreckage, checking his luxury wristwatch. The distraction was handled. It was time to return to the harbor and finish what he had started with the Mercer family.
