Lower East Side, New York – April 1919
The Lower East Side simmered with life and menace in equal measure. The Morettis weren't just the oldest gang in the area; they were also the most solid. With over 100 members scattered across the streets like shadows of Salvatore Moretti's will, no other group dared cross Delancey Street without paying tribute.
Giovanni walked down Orchard Street at sunset, flanked by two soldiers: Rino and Valerio, old dogs of the family. Since his return —his rebirth, as he saw it— not a single day had gone by without him feeling out of place… but with every step he took on the filthy concrete and cracked sidewalks, the echo of his new fate grew clearer.
The Lower East Side was his home. But also a minefield stretching as far as the family's business reached.
The First Problem
"But there's a problem," Lucca added, pointing at a red-marked area near the Williamsburg Bridge. "The Gypsies crossed the East River and pushed into South 6th Street. Just two blocks from our garages."
"What are they doing there?" Giovanni asked.
"Small arms trafficking," his father, Salvatore, replied. "Someone probably opened the door for them. Maybe one of our associates let them through without permission. We'll need to find out."
The First Assignment
"I want you to go with Enzo tonight," Salvatore told his son. "No guns. Just presence. See what's happening on South 6th. If the Czár are moving goods, come back and tell me. If anyone asks, you're Salvatore's son — not a soldier. Not yet."
Giovanni nodded, feeling the weight of the assignment. He wasn't a kid playing gangster. He was a living warning that everything came at a price — even the name he carried.
Encounter in Williamsburg
The night was humid as Giovanni crossed the bridge in a car with Enzo and two soldiers. Williamsburg smelled different. Less order. More chaos. More religion lurking in shadows. The houses were more spread out, the yards boarded up, and the faces on the street followed them with sunken eyes.
They arrived at a warehouse between S. 5th and Kent Ave. Two young men with wool caps and blade-scarred faces approached.
"What are the Italians doing on this side of the river?" one of them asked with a Hungarian accent.
"Getting a close look at your trash," Enzo replied with disdain.
The other young man stepped up to Giovanni with arrogance. He had scars on his cheek and the eyes of a wild animal.
"Who's this? Your apprentice?"
Giovanni said nothing. He simply held his gaze. Then, he stepped out of the car and walked straight toward the warehouse. It opened without a word.
There were six crates inside. One was open: handguns, revolvers, two rifles. Enough for a minor assault.
"How'd they bring them in?" Giovanni asked.
"From the other side. Baltimore. By train, with bribes to the rail union. They've got their own routes," whispered one of the soldiers.
Enzo clenched his jaw.
"This is a problem."
When they returned to the Lower East Side, Giovanni brought the report directly to his father.
"They're armed. And they're expanding. If no one stops them, they'll cross into Manhattan from the south. Who authorized this?"
Silence.
Salvatore took a deep breath.
"No one. Which means someone's selling permits behind the family's back."
War Meeting
The following night, the two Capporegime —Lucca and Nico Accardi— called an emergency meeting in the basement of the Rosso di Notte restaurant. Three options were discussed:
Execute a surgical strike and blow up the warehouse, sending a clear message.
Bribe a rival clan of the Czár to spark internal conflict.
Increase surveillance and identify which associate or soldier is leaking information.
"We can't let the Gypsies cross this river without permission," Nico growled.
"This could turn into a wildfire," Enzo warned. "If we slip, Hell's Kitchen or Harlem will jump on the weakness."
Giovanni watched silently. He wasn't part of the decisions yet… but he was learning. Fast.
That night, in his room, Giovanni scribbled into an old notebook:
"Being Salvatore Moretti's son is like walking with a dagger at your back.The family protects you, sure… but they also watch you.They expect you to bleed, to kill, to be more than your name.
But I have an edge:I know how men think when they don't want to become monsters…and how they're turned into one."