Page 63 of Mafia Daddy

Michael looks over, studying me for a moment. “I am pleased for you, truly. Having a boy like him in your life… I think it will only make you a better Pakhan. You have always been strong. Now you have something worth protecting. That sharpens a man.”

We exchange a look of mutual respect, the kind that only comes after years of shared battles and quiet loyalty. Michael has been with me since the beginning. He is more than an advisor.

Michael is family.

Suddenly, the door of the Lentini bar opens. Two senior Lentini men step out: I recognize one as Paolo’s cousin, a mid-level capo with a reputation for brutality. They climb into a black sedan and pull away.

“Follow them,” I order. “At a distance. Do not lose them.”

Michael starts the engine and eases into traffic, keeping two cars between us. We tail them through the city streets, heading toward a neighborhood I know well. My stomach tightens as their car slows and stops outside another bar, one where several of my own generals like to unwind after long nights.

“What the fuck…” I mutter.

Michael’s hands tighten on the wheel. “That is Marco’s place. Three of our guys are in there right now. I checked the roster before we left.”

The Lentini men get out and head inside. This is not a coincidence. This is a deliberate move.

“Call for a squad,” I say, voice cold. “Trusted soldiers only. Have them meet us two blocks away. There is about to be a bloodbath.”

Michael is already on the encrypted phone line, speaking rapidly in Russian.

I check my own weapon, mind racing through possibilities. If the Leones are making a move on my generals tonight, it means the truce is dead. And if they are bold enough to strike in one of our own territories, they are either very confident or very desperate.

Either way, I will answer in kind.

Then it hits me… what if the Lentini men aren’t making a move on my generals?

What if the meeting is to plot against me?

20

MILO

“We’re definitely heading in the right direct,” I say, my eyes scanning the surroundings as Kobek drives with a calm assurance.

That said, the drive upstate takes longer than I expect.

The roads grow narrower, winding through dense forest and past forgotten towns until Kobek finally slows the sedan and pulls off onto a dirt track hidden behind overgrown brush.

We stop just out of sight of the main road, the engine ticking quietly as it cools.

Through the trees ahead, I can see it… the entrance to the Lentini compound.

It is exactly as I remembered, only more imposing now. A heavily gated entrance with thick steel bars and concrete pillars. Security cameras are subtly placed in the trees on either side, their lenses barely visible unless you know exactly where to look. The gate itself looks new, reinforced, with spikes along the top.

This is no longer just a family retreat.

It is a fortress.

“Yup, this is it,” I say. “No doubt in my mind.”

Kobek kills the engine and raises a high-powered camera with a long lens. He starts taking photos, sending them immediately to Maxim through an encrypted link. I sit beside him in the passenger seat, heart pounding, trying to stay calm.

“Looks quiet,” Kobek mutters, adjusting the zoom. “No visible movement at the gate. But those cameras are live. We cannot get any closer.”

I nod, my mouth dry.

The compound feels like a sleeping beast behind the trees. I remember the high stone walls, the private dock, the way the house sat right on the cliffs overlooking the water. My father brought me here once when I was little. It was supposed to be a fun weekend away from the city. Instead, it became one of the last clear memories I have of him.