Chapter 8 - THE ALLY IN THE SHADOWS
The neon sign of O’Malley’s Bar flickered in the afternoon rain.
It was a dive bar on the edge of the industrial district.
Smelling of stale beer and bad decisions.
Matteo pushed the door open, pulling Lena close behind him.
At the back booth sat an old man with a scarred neck and a glass of amber whiskey.
Salatore.
Once Matteo’s most trusted lieutenant.
Sal looked up, his clouded eyes widening in disbelief.
“Well, I'll be damned,” Sal grunted, taking a slow sip.
“The ghost of Route 17.”
“Cut the crap, Sal,” Matteo slid into the booth across from him.
“I need iron.”
Sal let out a harsh, rasping laugh.
“Iron? You threw away your guns three years ago, kid.”
“Dante Moretti is knocking on my door,” Matteo said flatly.
Sal’s smile vanished.
The room grew instantly colder.
“Dante thinks you're weak because you walked away,” Sal leaned forward, lowering his voice.
“He’s taking over the eastern seaboard.”
“And he wants your scalp to prove he’s king.”
Sal reached beneath the bench and pulled out a heavy canvas duffel bag.
He dropped it on the table with a dull thud.
Unzipping it revealed two suppressed automatic pistols, several magazines, and a box of tactical grenades.
“You're walking into a slaughterhouse, Matteo,” Sal warned.
“Not if we strike first,” Lena said, pulling one of the pistols from the bag and checking the clip with expert familiarity.
Sal stared at her in shock.
May you like
“I thought she was just a waitress,” Sal whispered.
“Everyone makes that mistake,” Matteo said, zipping the bag closed.
