Fuck. I hate these fucking warehouses. Dusty and always frigid.

I’m flanked by two of my men. Four more soldiers trail us with a dozen more outside. It’s to make an impression. Joe and Lance Vitelli have overstepped.

Lance. Who the fuck names their kid Lance in this business? It’s no wonder he’s acting out. Trying to prove he’s not a pussy.

Our footsteps echo off the old machinery as I follow Roman, my uncle, through the main room and to the back where the brothers are being held. There’s no door to that room and the glow of the single light bulb is a contrast to the pitch black of the rest of the place.

The sound of a fist connecting with flesh is followed by a grunt. The grunt, I know, belongs to either Joe or Lance. I pick lint off my sleeve and adjust the cuff of my shirt as we near the entrance. Roman steps into the room, stands to the side, folding his hands together. He takes in what’s going on, then turns to me, gives a brief nod and waits.

I walk into the room, crack my neck. Slept bad last night.

The sight that greets me is not an unfamiliar one. The offenders are sitting in straight back chairs, but they’re not bound. There’s a splattering of blood on Joe’s white shirt. It’s fresh. I guess he’s the one who took the punch I heard.

“That’s disgusting. Get something on his nose,” I say to one of my men.

“It’s fucking broke,” Joe whines, taking the wad of nasty cloth someone just shoved at him.

I go right up to him. Lean down to get my face in his. “You’re lucky you’re not broke. Be grateful or that’ll change.”

He breathes in a sharp breath and I know he’s biting his lip not to reply.

“Sergio,” Lance starts. Lance is the older brother. The slightly smarter one. Or the one with a healthier fear of death.

Of me.

I straighten, turn to him.

“Mr. Benedetti,” he corrects.

I wait.

“My brother screwed up, but it’s fixed. The girls are back home. No harm, no foul, right?” He attempts to smile but it fails and his lips droop.

“In whose territory do you live?” I ask. It’s been a long fucking night already and it’s not close to over. I’m tired, so I’ll get to the point.

“Yours, sir,” he answers.

“In whose territory do your families live? Mothers, sisters, wives, daughters.”

Lance’s face, which was pale when I got here, goes gray. “Yours, Mr. Benedetti. Benedetti territory.”

I nod, shift my gaze to Joe. “To whom has your father pledged your family’s loyalty, Joe?” His eyes narrow and when he doesn’t answer right away, Lance clears his throat to, but I stop him. “I’m asking your fucking brother.”

“Benedetti,” Joe says through gritted teeth.

“DeMarco’s were once loyal to us too, until they weren’t,” I remind them. What happened to that family should be enough warning. What is happening and still will happen to Lucia DeMarco, most precious daughter, should be enough. My father’s right about fear. But there’s more to it. Ruthlessness. It’s what truly gets you respect in this business.

He is ruthless.

And I am my father’s son.

“You have a sister, don’t you?” I ask. “Anna, right? How old is she now?”

Lance just stares back at me, his eyes wide with fear.

I may not agree with how my father is handling the DeMarco girl, but I understand it. “Lucia DeMarco’s age, am I right?”

“She’s only sixteen, sir,” Lance says, his voice a little quieter.

“Yeah, Lucia DeMarco’s age when they lost the war they started with us.” I don’t need to say more.

“Sergio—” Lance starts. “Mr. Benedetti—”

I raise my hand to halt him. “Let’s just be clear. I’m going to give you a warning. One chance, because I know your father. He’s been a friend to my family. But if you overstep again, the consequences will be more…permanent.”

Lance swallows.

“Benedetti’s do not deal in flesh trade. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Lance says quickly.

I look at Joe. If looks could kill, I’d be dead right now.

I grab a handful of Joe’s hair and tug his head backward. “Is that fucking clear?”

One of my men cocks a gun and Lance whimpers like a fucking girl.

“You the tough one?” I ask Joe. “Sucks to always be in big brother’s shadow, doesn’t it?” He exhales, shifts his gaze away from mine, but not to his brother. I’m right. Like Dominic, my youngest brother, he knows he’ll never be boss and it fucking kills him. “Am I fucking clear, Joe? Or do I need to make an example?” I squeeze the handful of over-gelled hair and if I twist just once in the wrong direction, I’ll snap his neck. Quick and clean. No blood on my suit. And he knows it.

“Clear,” he says.

I release him, wipe my hand on my pants and decide I’m not done yet. “Now, show me your loyalty. Your gratitude for my family’s generosity in this unfortunate event.” I step backward, giving him space. He knows what I want and it’s going to kill him to do it.

But he’s going to do it.

I wait. I’m patient.

“Joe. Just fucking do it,” Lance orders his brother when a full minute passes and Joe hasn’t moved.

Joe’s face is a fiery red and his eyes are filled with rage. But soon, the leg of the chair scrapes across the concrete floor as he drops to his knees at my feet.

I look down at him. Give him more space. And my smile widens as he prostrates himself and his lips touch the toe of my shoe.

I want to kick the son-of-a-bitch, but I don’t. I’m a man of my word. I will give them one more chance.

A sound comes from the metal ramp that runs along the perimeter of the large office forming a second level. I look at it. It must have been an observation deck to oversee the plant.

I don’t know if anyone else heard it. A glance at Roman tells me he did, but the others haven’t noticed. I nod to him. He steps out of the room and two men follow.

When I return my gaze to the spectacle in front of me, I’m very aware of my periphery. I want to catch any movement because that sound was too loud for a mouse.

“Get them out of here,” I say to the two soldiers behind the brothers.

“Yes, sir.”

I watch as Joe and Lance are walked rudely out of the room. After a few moments, I turn to my men. “Let’s go,” I say loudly. They walk out. I hang back, switch out the light, listen to the footsteps echo as they vacate the building. I reach for the handgun in its holster beneath my jacket and walk silently toward the direction from where the sound had come.