In the end, I borrowed men from Rafael, gathered what was left of the Caruso loyalists, and returned to New York.It took three months to take back the ports, the clubs, the warehouses, and the security routes Matteo had handed to Bellandi after my grandfather's death. It took another two to cut Marino money out of our accounts. Vincenzo Marino ran before we reached him, but men like him always left doors behind. Rafael had patience for doors. I had patience for blood.By winter, the new Caruso house stood on the same land as the old one.I did not rebuild it exactly as it had been. The old house belonged to my grandfather, to Marco, to childhood dinners and locked rooms and every version of myself that still believed loyalty could be measured by how many bullets a man took for you. That house had burned. I let it stay burned."Caruso territory comes back," I said. "Anyone who gave Marino information will be found. Anyone who followed Bellandi because he held a gun to his head can buy
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