It was a name carved into the darker corners of the mafia world, feared for his precision, his silence, and his lack of hesitation. A name Father's used to warn their sons never to cross the wrong people. A name bosses muttered when business went wrong, when entire gang vanished overnight without a trace.
At that moment, Lisa's uncle's legs wouldn't stop trembling. It didn't matter how much he tried to hide it, the shake was there, constant, uncontrollable. His palms were sweating too, leaving damp marks on the table where his hands rested. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, unable to believe what his eyes were seeing.
