Chapter 2: Blood in the Streets

The air in the DeLuca family headquarters was thick with tension. Tony DeLuca stood by the window, staring out at the darkened streets below, where the city buzzed with activity under the flickering streetlights. It was a cool evening, but the heat of the moment made him feel like he was suffocating.

The news of the ambush had come quickly—too quickly. The Romano family had struck without warning, attacking one of their key shipments. A convoy of trucks, loaded with everything from high-end liquor to firearms, had been targeted on the outskirts of the city. Two men were dead, three more injured. The Romano signature—brutal, efficient, and without mercy—was unmistakable.

"Tony," Sal Vitale's gravelly voice cut through his thoughts. The enforcer was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, his eyes dark with concern. "You heard?"

Tony nodded, still not turning from the window. His hands clenched around the smooth edges of the glass as if willing the whole situation to go away. But it wouldn't. It never did.

"I heard," Tony muttered, his voice tight. "They hit us hard. Dammit."

Sal stepped inside, his heavy boots making a muffled thud on the carpet. "We need to respond. You know that, right?"

Tony finally turned around to face him. The older man’s face was a mask of cold resolve, but Tony could see the question in his eyes. The question that had been hanging in the air since his father’s accident: would Tony act? Or would he falter, like so many others who had tried to step into Don Vincenzo’s shoes?

"I know," Tony said, his voice steady, though his mind was spinning. "But this is different. My father—" His words trailed off, an unspoken weight hanging in the air.

Sal didn’t flinch. "Your father’s not dead, Tony. He’s still here. And so are we. But we need to move fast. If we don’t hit back, the Romanos will smell weakness."

Tony turned away, pacing the room. His mind was torn in two directions. Part of him wanted to prove that he was his father’s son, that he could rule with the same iron fist. But another part—a quieter, more conflicted voice—urged him to take a different route, to seek a solution that didn’t involve bloodshed. He had never liked the senseless violence of it all, but now it was impossible to ignore.

"Tell me something," Tony said suddenly, his voice low, almost reflective. "How did it feel, Sal? The first time you had to pull a trigger for the family?"

Sal didn't answer right away. His expression hardened, as if recalling the ghosts of his past. When he spoke, his voice was quiet but firm.

"Don Vincenzo’s orders. We all have a place, Tony. We all play our part. You’re the boss now. You don’t have the luxury of wondering what it feels like. You’ve got a job to do."

There was something in his tone that made Tony stop pacing. Sal wasn’t just a soldier; he was a man who had sacrificed much for the family, and his loyalty to the DeLucas was unquestioned. But Tony couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he could keep walking the same path.

Before he could speak again, the door to the room opened, and his sister Sophie stepped inside, her heels clicking sharply on the marble floor. Her presence was like a gust of wind—calm, but undeniably strong.

"Any updates?" she asked, her eyes scanning the room.

Tony sighed. "The Romanos are testing us. I don't know how long we can hold off before we respond."

"Then don’t hold off," Sophie said, her voice cool but determined. "We don’t have time to play games. This is war, Tony. We either fight back now, or we let them walk all over us."

Her words stung, but there was truth in them. The DeLucas had always been at the top of the food chain in this city. Letting someone challenge their authority was the fastest way to crumble from the inside out.

“I’m not afraid of fighting back,” Tony replied sharply, turning to face her. “But we’re not just a street gang, Sophie. We’re a family. I’m trying to keep that intact.”

Sophie’s lips curled into a small smile, but it wasn’t one of reassurance. “You’re the boss now, Tony. But don’t mistake hesitation for strength. This is about survival.”

Tony looked between his sister and Sal. There were no easy answers, no perfect solutions. In the end, he knew one thing for sure: this was the moment that would define him. The question was, would he give in to the blood that ran through his veins, or could he find a way to break free?

His phone buzzed on the table, a new message flashing on the screen. It was a warning: The Romanos are coming for you, DeLuca. Make your move.

Tony’s jaw tightened. The time for hesitation was over.

"Get the men ready," he said to Sal, his voice hardening. "We're going to show the Romanos what it means to cross the DeLuca family."

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