Chapter 6 - A Different Kind of Sovereign
The alliance between the Marcone family and the remaining elements of the old Brooklyn factions had grown cold, but not dead. Salva Moretti had not forgotten the humiliation in the penthouse foyer.
By January, the streets were thick with slush, and the rumors were thick with blood. Matteo’s captains were demanding a retaliation for the intrusion, but Matteo remained strange, distant, and focused. He was no longer the Don who ruled by fear alone; he had discovered the strategic value of peace. He spent his mornings arranging legitimate shipping contracts that would move the DeLuca wealth out of the shadows and into the sunlight of Wall Street.
"They think you're getting soft, boss," his underboss, a gray-haired veteran named Bruno, said during a meeting in the study.
Camryn was sitting on the rug near the window, teaching Leo how to tie his shoes. She didn't look up, but she listened. She had learned that in this world, knowledge was the only armor that didn't require a permit.
"Let them think what they want, Bruno," Matteo replied, his eyes checking the ledger. "A soft man spends his money. A hard man spends his soldiers. I am tired of buying headstones in Queens."
"Salva is talking to the Colombians in Queens," Bruno warned, his voice low. "They’re offering him a supply route that bypasses our piers entirely. If they set up there, we lose the northern corridor."
Matteo leaned back, his gold pen balanced between his fingers. He looked over at the rug. Leo had managed to loop the yellow lace around his thumb and was looking up at Camryn with a grin that showed his small teeth. Camryn laughed—a bright, clean sound that cut through the stale air of the syndicate business.
"Let them have the corridor," Matteo said.
Bruno blinked. "Boss?"
"The corridor is a trap," Matteo said coolly. "The feds have had cameras on those warehouses since November. If Salva wants to move his product through a needle’s eye that’s already wired by the FBI, let him. We pull our men back. We cede the territory."
Camryn looked up then. She saw the calculation in Matteo’s eyes—it wasn't the retreat of a coward; it was the patience of a spider. He wasn't just protecting his business anymore; he was cleaning the house so that when Leo grew up, there would be nothing left for the police to take.
That night, after Bruno left, Matteo joined her on the floor. Leo had already gone to bed, leaving behind a battlefield of plastic blocks.
"You're changing things," Camryn said, her hand resting on his knee.
"I am surviving, Camryn," he said, taking her hand and kissing the palm. "For a long time, I thought the only way to keep Leo safe was to build the wall higher. But walls can be blown up. You have to change the ground the wall stands on."
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"And the Marcones?"
"They will destroy themselves," he said simply. "A man who only knows how to bite will eventually eat his own tongue."
