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10 Years Promised (Mafia)
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The private dining room of La Cittadella was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the faces of the men seated around the table. It had been a decade since they had last shared a meal, a moment of camaraderie that had ended in blood and betrayal. Now, after ten long years, a promise made in the midst of chaos brought them together again. Dominic "The Viper" Vincenzo sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable, his sharp suit immaculate. To his left was Marco "Steelhand" Ricci, the enforcer who had once been the most loyal of soldiers but disappeared the ...
The private dining room of La Cittadella was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the faces of the men seated around the table. It had been a decade since they had last shared a meal, a moment of camaraderie that had ended in blood and betrayal. Now, after ten long years, a promise made in the midst of chaos brought them together again. Dominic "The Viper" Vincenzo sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable, his sharp suit immaculate. To his left was Marco "Steelhand" Ricci, the enforcer who had once been the most loyal of soldiers but disappeared the night the family fell apart. Across from him sat Vincent "The Wolf" Bellini, eyes cold as ever, his loyalty always a question mark. The years had been cruel to some and generous to others. Scars, both visible and hidden, told stories of survival, revenge, and regret. They had sworn an oath ten years ago, in the basement of a burning nightclub: when the time came, they would return to rebuild what had been destroyed, no matter the cost. "Ten years," Dominic said, breaking the silence. His voice was as sharp as a blade. "And not one of you reached out. Not a word. Not a whisper. Yet here you are, just as promised. Why?" Marco leaned forward, his knuckles rapping against the table. "Because we knew the promise wasn't to you, Dom. It was to what we were. To what we could be again." Vincent chuckled darkly, swirling his glass of wine. "And what's that, Marco? A family? We killed that when we killed each other." The tension in the room was suffocating, the ghosts of their past sitting in every empty chair. Dominic's gaze swept over them, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. "What we were... and what we could be... is decided tonight." Outside, the city hummed with life, oblivious to the storm brewing behind closed doors. Deals were about to be made. Alliances forged-or broken forever.
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