Chapter 1

LORENZO

The hum of the private jet fades into the background as I sit back and stare out the window with the lingering taste of expensive scotch on my tongue. The leather seat creaks subtly as I shift my weight, glancing out at the endless blue horizon through the small, oval window. The Caribbean stretches beneath us, a reminder of the temporary peace I've just savored. I can still hear my sister's laughter mingling with the gentle breeze; a rare sound, especially in these tumultuous times.

Luca sits across from me, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest, showing a rare sign of his impatience. My second-in-command's eyes meet mine, sharp and reflective like he's calculating our next moves, which, knowing him, he probably is. Antonio, my head of security, stands stoically beside him, his frame filling the small space with a quiet resolve.

The intercom rings before the pilot's voice cuts through the tension filling the cabin. "We'll land in Nassau soon. It should only take a few minutes to refuel and then we'll be on our way."

"Thank you," I tell him before turning to the two men who I trust with my life. "Is everything lined up for our arrival?"

Luca leans forward, the tension in his muscles visible. "Yes. We've got the boys ready at JFK to ensure a smooth welcome. Our families have been on edge, but most of the skirmishes are settled. We hit the Grimaldis where it hurt. They're licking their wounds now."

I nod, absorbing the information. The Grimaldis had underestimated the other families, a fatal miscalculation on their part. "And our assets?"

Antonio steps in, his deep voice a contrast to Luca's staccato rhythm. "Protected, and the remaining threats neutralized. We've got eyes and ears everywhere. Few loose ends to tie up, but nothing we can't handle once we're back."

I lean back, the tension easing from my shoulders slightly. This war started as a ripple and grew into a tidal wave, threatening to drown everything in our world. Everything went down when the head of the Grimaldi family died suddenly without naming a successor and his family fractured. Each of the two main factions of the family was determined to seize control from the other. Their war spilled over into the other New York families, threatening to drag us all down in the process.

I rub my temples, the weight of leadership pressing heavier than usual. "Good. The wounds are deep, but we'll stitch them up. The main thing is the message was sent that no one takes on the Amante family and walks away unscathed."

Luca's eyes flash with a cold, fierce loyalty. "This war will set them back for years. By the time they regroup, we'll be stronger than ever."

Antonio gives a short, approving nod. "Agreed. Our men are ready for anything. They've seen what happens to those who cross you."

Our meeting is interrupted by the pilot's announcement over the intercom, informing us of our descent into Nassau. It's a brief pause in our journey, a chance to stretch our legs and ensure everything is in place before the final leg home. As we descend, the piercing Caribbean sun reflects off the wings of the plane, reminding me of the deceptive allure of paradise.

Touch-down is as smooth as ever. The moment the wheels kiss the tarmac, I unbuckle my seatbelt and stand, feeling the urge to move, to take control. I nod to Luca and Antonio, a signal that it's time to disembark, even if just momentarily.

Outside, the humid Caribbean air embraces us, a stark contrast to the cool, controlled environment of the jet. The refueling process is quick, a mere blip in our timeline. I use this time to stretch, feel my muscles pull and relax, and prepare for the battles yet to come.

Luca joins me, his eyes scanning the horizon, ever vigilant. "Lorenzo, we'll be home soon. You've kept us stronger than ever through this storm."

I turn to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "And we'll continue to do so."

Antonio joins us, his silence speaking volumes. These men are my brothers in arms and my trusted confidantes. They're the pillars of the empire I've built.

The Caribbean sun beats down on us as we walk back toward the plane onto the tarmac. The scent of saltwater hangs in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of jet fuel. Antonio's sharp eyes scan the horizon, ever watchful, while Luca's impatient energy is almost palpable.

I glance at the pilot, his face drawn with concern. He wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead before speaking. "Mr. Amante, we've encountered an issue with the plane."

Motherfucker. Antonio steps close and asks, "What issue?"

"There's a vital sensor that stopped reading." The pilot goes into depth explaining to Antonio while I pinch the bridge of my nose. Fucking hell. "We need to service the plane overnight here in Nassau. I'm afraid we can't take off until tomorrow."

I feel a surge of frustration, but I mask it quickly. Control is everything. "Was this caused by tampering?" I ask, my voice even.

"No, sir," the pilot quickly responds. "It's a part that occasionally wears out."

I order, accepting the situation, "Make sure it's done right."

The pilot nods, moving swiftly to coordinate with the ground crew. I turn to Luca and Antonio. "Looks like we're spending the night here. Find us a place to stay, something secure and discreet."

Luca's already on his phone, making arrangements. "I'll handle it. There's a resort nearby that can offer us some privacy. I'll ensure everything is sorted out before we head over."

Antonio speaks into his cellphone, calling in additional men while checking out our surroundings. His presence is a rock-solid assurance in an otherwise fluid situation.

We move toward the terminal building, shadows lengthening as the sun dips toward the horizon. The terminal is a small but luxurious structure, designed more for the affluent wanderer than a man of my particular background. I can appreciate the irony.

Inside, the cool, air-conditioned space is a welcome relief. Luca motions to a corner where we can talk privately. "The resort is secure. I've arranged for a private villa, fully staffed and with top-notch security. We'll be secluded from the main resort area."

"Good," I reply. "Let's keep things low-profile. The last thing we need is unnecessary attention."

Antonio nods, his eyes scanning the room once more. Ever vigilant, ever prepared.

A sleek black SUV arrives to take us to the resort. The drive is short but scenic, the lush greenery of the island a stark contrast to the concrete jungle of New York. We pass vibrant markets and serene beaches, but my mind is on what awaits us back home.

The resort villa exceeds my expectations. High walls provide privacy, while a cluster of palm trees and tropical flowers lend it a serene, almost surreal beauty. A private beach stretches beyond the infinity pool, the waves lapping gently at the shore.

As we walk inside, I take in the opulent yet tasteful décor. The staff, informed in advance of our arrival, move swiftly to attend to our needs. I sit in the spacious living area, sinking into a plush chair. Luca and Antonio remain on their feet, ever alert.

"Relax, just a bit," I tell them. "Tonight is a rare opportunity to catch our breath."

Luca sits, though his posture is rigid. Antonio remains standing, his eyes scanning the perimeter through the wide glass windows.

A tray of drinks arrives, and I pour myself another scotch. The amber liquid glints in the setting sun's light. "To tomorrow," I toast, the glass cool against my lips.

Luca, with his glass of bourbon, clinks it lightly against mine. "To our return."

Antonio simply nods, his approval silent but clear.

I lean back, the tension of the past days easing slowly. The sounds of the Caribbean's nightlife, the gentle crash of waves, the distant murmur of conversation, and the rustle of palm leaves in the evening breeze lull me.

The night deepens and conversation turns to plans for our return. We discuss strategies, assets, and how to tighten our grip on the city. Eventually, the conversation wanes, each of us lost in our thoughts.

I stand, signaling the end of our impromptu meeting. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, we fly home and reclaim our place."

Luca nods, heading to his designated room. Antonio gives a final sweep of the area before retiring for the night. I step out onto the terrace, the cool night air a welcome sensation against my skin.

Alone, I gaze out at the starlit sky. It's beautiful here, away from the blood and concrete. But beauty is fleeting, and duty calls. Tomorrow, we return to the heart of the storm.

I drain the last of my scotch, the liquid burning a path down my throat. Tomorrow, New York will know that Lorenzo Amante is back. And no one, absolutely no one, will stand in my way.