Kyle leaned back in his chair, the polished wood creaking slightly under his weight as he studied Cleopatra across the table. The room's ambient lighting cast long shadows over her face, but he pressed on with the discussion they'd started before her abrupt phone call. "We need a solid plan against the Mafia," he said, his voice steady but probing.
"Marcello's gathering the families—that's our window. Hit their supply lines first, maybe leak intel to rivals like the Yakuza. Disrupt their unity before they solidify power. What do you think? You've got the connections; we could coordinate strikes on their key assets," Kyle suggested.
