A Promise to Keep

The city of New Haven never slept, not in the way most people thought. Beneath its bustling streets and glowing skyscrapers lay a dark, dark underbelly. A world where deals were made in whispers, and lives were bought and sold with the nod of a head. This was the world of the De-Rossi crime family, a syndicate whose influence stretched from the highest political offices to the grimiest slums and alleyways.

At the heart of it all was Vincente "Vince" De-Rossi, the ruthless yet charismatic leader who commanded fear and respect in equal measure. Vince had built his empire from the ground up, learning early that power was the only currency that mattered. Everyone owed him and he made sure not to owe anyone, it was this way that he had managed to keep New Haven firmly in his grasp. And now, as he stood on the balcony of his penthouse suite, he knew that that power was slipping through his fingers.

The analogue clock on the wall struck 12:00 PM. Vincente De-Rossi stared at it, lost in thought, knowing that the next twenty-four hours would determine the fate of his empire, everything he had ever worked for stood in the balance. He had received a tip-off that the federal authorities were closing in on his operations, and if he didn't act fast, everything he had worked for would be gone. Years and years of murdering, maiming, threatening, kidnapping and even blackmailing would all unravel because of a single, unplugged leak… a rat that had gone singing to the wrong ears. Vincente had little time to uncover the snitch and was hard-pressed for solutions.

In the dimly lit war room, Vince's most trusted lieutenants gathered. There was Salvatore "Sally" Mancini, the enforcer with an obsession for brutality; Marco "The Brain" Montana, the strategic mastermind behind all operations; and Isabella "Izzy" Moretti, Vince's right-hand, confidante and mistress.

"We have less than a day to figure out who's behind this leak and silence them…permanently," Vince declared, his voice steady despite the tension in his chest. "Sally, I need you to tighten security around our key locations and move all the cash to my safe houses, I do not care whether they have been counted and washed yet. Marco, find out which of our guys have been talking. Izzy, I need you to reach out to our contacts in the FBI and get me some answers, someone has to know something."

Izzy nodded, her sharp eyes already calculating their next move. "On it. But Vince, we need to be careful. If we're too aggressive, we might tip them off and cause them to speed up their plans."

Vince rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of his decisions. "I know Izzy, I know. But we don't have a choice. This is our only shot to protect everything we've built." He said and gave a short nod at each of them, indicating they could leave.

As the team dispersed, Vince stayed behind, staring at the map of New Haven pinned to the wall. He traced his finger along the routes that connected his various operations—the docks, the warehouses, the nightclubs. Each one was a vital artery in the lifeblood of his empire, he couldn’t afford to lose any and as things stood, he couldn’t figure out where the feds were most likely to hit. Stakes were at the highest they had ever been and Vince was not happy about it.

Sal was the first to leave the war room, his mind already on the task at hand. He made his way to the estate's security hub, where a dozen screens showed live feeds from security cameras at all of the De-Rossi family's key locations. He barked orders to the guards, ensuring that every entrance and exit was secured. He knew the importance of locking down their operations; if the feds were coming and if it came down to a firefight, they needed to be ready. Picking up his phone, he began to make calls to their various cash outfits, instructing them, just like Vince had directed, to begin to move all the money to the heavily guarded, well hidden safe houses across the city.

Meanwhile, Marco Leone settled into his small, windowless office. His desk was cluttered with papers and surveillance photos, each one a piece of the puzzle he was trying to solve. Marco was the brains of the operation, the one who saw patterns where others saw chaos. As he sifted through reports and footage, a troubling thought began to form in his mind: someone on the inside, maybe even in the highest echelon was working against them. Marco was worried, really worried.

Izzy Moretti, the smooth operator of the group, made her way to her private office. She had cultivated relationships with key players in law enforcement. She had a number of tools at her disposal, some monetary and others a little more physical, and now she needed to cash in on those chips…all of them. Her heart pounded as she dialed the number of her most reliable contact, Special Agent Tom Wallace.

"Wallace," came the gruff voice on the other end of the line.

"Tom, it's Izzy. We need to talk," she said, her tone urgent but controlled.

There was a pause before Wallace replied. "What do you need, Izzy?"

"I need to know if there's any chatter about a major operation targeting us. Something big is going down, and we need to be ready for it."

Wallace sighed. "You know I can't just give you classified information Izzy, we don’t just go around seeing these things on our daily memos."

"I'm not asking for all the specs, just a heads-up. You owe me, Tom."

Another pause. "Alright, I'll see what I can find out. But you didn't hear it from me."