"Fabio, are you sure they went in?"
Scarface Eli, the gang leader, pointed at the alley in front of them.
"Yes, boss. This is the place. They're as cunning as ever—I almost lost them, even on my bike." Fabio wiped the sweat off his forehead.
Eli let out a sinister grin. "Big George wants them gone. I've had enough of tailing these two for the past week.
This alley's a dead end—I'd say it's the perfect spot."
"Uh, boss Eli, that big one looks tough—strong and mean. He won't go down easy."
"Not easy? We have numbers on our side. Besides, Big George gave me this."
Eli pulled back his jacket, revealing a silver Colt revolver at his waist.
"Of course, there are too many people around—let's avoid using guns if we can. The sun's about to set. Once we're done, drinks are on me at Lisa's."
With that, the gang stormed into the alley. As they turned the corner, they spotted Leo and Desmond standing in the shadows.
The thugs exchanged glances, drew knives and batons from their belts, and charged forward.
But the two men in the shadows didn't move an inch, as if they had already given up.
Scarface Eli grinned—this would be an easy job. His mind drifted to how he'd celebrate with the ladies tonight.
"Leo, don't make this too bloody."
Desmond's calm words made Eli pause. Then he laughed even harder—these two fools clearly had no idea what was coming.
He stepped forward, swinging his knife down at Leo.
But it was a feint. At the same time, his other hand pulled out a smaller, sharper blade aimed straight for Leo's kidney.
This was his signature move—one that had never failed. Tonight, it would claim yet another life.
Eli smirked, already envisioning his rising status within the gang.
Wait. Where did he go?
In the blink of an eye, Leo vanished from his sight.
Then, a massive fist smashed into Eli's chest.
Too fast. He saw it, but his body couldn't react in time.
Crack!
His ribs shattered. Airborne, he couldn't even scream as he crashed to the ground, blood spilling from his mouth. His organs were wrecked.
The fight ended before it even began. The gang stood frozen in shock. Their strongest fighter had been taken out in one hit.
Silence. Only Eli's gurgling coughs filled the air.
"If you won't come at me, I'll come at you."
Leo had faced nothing but obstacles since arriving in New York. His patience was running thin, and the rejection from the publishing world had pushed him to his limit.
These thugs? They were just stress relief.
Power, speed, and technique—the battle was completely one-sided.
Leo struck with precision, dodging every drop of blood that flew from his opponents. One punch, one man down.
As Leo's eyes glowed with fury, he raised his foot, ready to end Eli for good.
"Stop, Leo. You've got enough trouble in New York already."
Desmond's words made Leo hesitate. The bloodlust in his eyes faded slightly.
He stepped out of the alley, gazing at the evening sky.
"God will forgive my brutality, won't He?"
"He will. Because I've already prayed for you." Desmond replied.
Leo let out a slow breath. "Brother, I think it's time we head back to Lynchburg."
The ambush confirmed it—whoever had blacklisted him in the East Coast publishing world wasn't satisfied with just exiling him. They wanted him dead, to earn favor with MacArthur.
Desmond nodded. "I've been saying that from the start. Lynchburg is home. I'll buy the tickets—we'll leave tomorrow."
"Wait," Leo said. "Get tickets for the day after tomorrow."
Desmond raised a brow. "Let me guess. The hotel maid, Summer? Seven nights weren't enough?"
Leo chuckled. "I could stay another month, honestly. But no, that's not the reason."
He pulled a luxurious, gold-embossed white invitation from his coat.
"I have a wedding to attend."
Desmond took the invitation, his curiosity piqued. "A fancy invitation, Leo. Since when do you have wealthy friends in New York?"
He read the words aloud:
Dear friend,
You are cordially invited to my daughter's wedding.
Sincerely, Vito Corleone.
———
Outside the Corleone family estate in Long Island, a taxi came to a slow stop. The door opened, and Leo stepped out.
His black-rimmed glasses were borrowed. His ill-fitting suit was rented. Everything was carefully chosen to soften the hardened aura that war had given him. His eyes still carried a dangerous glint—not exactly the look of a wedding guest.
It was, after all, the wedding of a Mafia don's daughter. Luxurious cars packed the road leading to the grand estate.
The sight was both unfamiliar and strangely familiar. Unfamiliar, because he had never been here before. Familiar, because he had seen it in a past life—in a movie called The Godfather.
"Leo!"
He turned and saw a uniformed man approaching, leading a beautiful woman by the hand.
Michael Corleone, in his military attire, wore a look of surprise.
Unlike Michael, Leo wasn't shocked at all. He had expected to see the youngest Corleone, his wartime friend, and the future Don of the family.
"Long time no see, Mike."
Men express reunion through an embrace.
"Kay, this is Leo. We met at a field hospital in Midway when I was injured—he was in the bed next to mine," Michael explained.
"Nice to meet you, Kay. You see, having two Italian Americans in the same field hospital was a rare thing. It was almost inevitable we became friends."
Leo smiled.
Michael's eyes darkened slightly. "Leo, since the hospital, we've never crossed paths again. I'm glad to see you here. But forgive me for asking—who invited you?"
Despite his distaste for the family business, Michael was cautious. He needed to know why Leo, a man who had no ties to the Corleone family, had shown up.
After all, a war hero like Leo could be a problem.
Leo sighed. "To be honest, I was surprised too. The day after I arrived in New York, this invitation slid under my hotel door."
Michael stiffened. He knew what that meant—this wasn't just a friendly invitation.
"Kay, wait here a moment. I need to introduce Leo to someone."
He led Leo through the crowd to a quieter section of the estate.
Seated at a table were several key members of the Corleone family. Michael introduced one of them.
"Tom, this is my friend Leo. He was invited to today's wedding.
Leo, this is Tom—my brother and the family's consigliere."
Michael emphasized the word consigliere, ensuring Leo, as a fellow Italian, would grasp its weight.
Tom Hagen studied Leo for a moment, then smiled. "Welcome, Mr. Leo Valentino."
Michael hadn't mentioned Leo's last name, yet Tom knew it.
The sharp consigliere picked up on Michael's concern and reassured him. "Michael, it's not as serious as you think. Leo's presence only simplifies things.
Go be with your girl. I'll take him to see the Don."