The villa’s grand dining hall was no longer a place for feasts. Tonight, it was a tribunal.

Enzo stood at the head of the long table, cigarette smoke curling around him like a crown of shadows. Elena sat beside him, her emerald eyes sharper than steel. Before them, twenty men—capos, lieutenants, trusted guards—shifted uneasily under the weight of their gaze.

Every man in that room had sworn blood loyalty. But loyalty, Enzo knew, was only as strong as the temptation to betray it.

He stubbed his cigarette into the ashtray and spoke, his voice carrying like a blade.

“Crates don’t vanish by themselves. Shipments don’t move without hands. Someone in...