Bound by Honor

1. Rocco

1

ROCCO

“ I warned you, Lorenzo. You should have listened while you had the chance.” I step forward, the echo of my footsteps blending with the distant sound of dripping water. The scent of rust and old wood fills the air, a perfect backdrop for what needs to be done.

Lorenzo’s eyes flicker to me, defiant even in his broken state. Tied to a chair in the center of the room, he's bruised, bloodied, and lucky to be alive. Yet, there's more to extract—information, territory agreements, and personal satisfaction.

“It’s not what you think, Rocco.” Lorenzo attempts to save his skin by lying about his intentions, but we’re way past that now. He spits blood onto the floor, his voice raspy but steady. “Leone… you think… you own Brooklyn? There’s more than enough territory for everyone, but men like you take more than your share.”

I chuckle low, reaching into my coat pocket to pull out a sharp knife. The light catches its blade as I flip it in my hand casually. “I don’t think, Lorenzo. I know. There are five boroughs and five families. Brooklyn belongs to me. I’ve tolerated your nickel-and-dime operation, but now you’ve crossed the line.”

"Understand this…" I growl. “You are in my city, breathing my air, standing on ground soaked with my blood and sweat. You are mere trespassers in my kingdom." The stale smell of abandoned industry, mixed with the metallic tang of spilled blood, creates an atmosphere that reeks of danger and power. This is a place where deals are made and broken with a single word or gesture. And I am not afraid to assert my dominance in this arena.

Lorenzo's gaze bores into mine, perhaps desperate to find even a trace of humanity within me. But he’ll find none. It is like staring into the abyss and feeling it stare back, coldness seeping into my very soul. Hate is all that remains between us. He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down like a buoy on rough waters.

"Rocco, please listen," Lorenzo pleads.

But I cut him off, my tone as sharp as the hidden blade within the folds of my tailored suit. "Your excuses are irrelevant—they mean nothing to me." My words drip with disdain. I pause, letting the silence stretch out between us for effect. "You have shattered any chance of reprieve with your constant infractions." With those final words, I turn away from him, knowing that his actions have irreparably broken our once close bond.

"Leone, we can sort this out. There's no need for bloodshed." Lorenzo trembles with fear as he tries to calm the tense situation.

My lips curl into a half smile, my blood boiling and my heart pounding in my chest. "Bloodshed? I never decide when blood is shed. It is simply a consequence of your actions. And now you must face those consequences."

"Rocco—" Lorenzo begs.

"Silence," I command, silencing any further objections. "By dawn, your men must be gone from my territory," I continue, my words cutting through the stillness like a knife. "If they so much as step foot in Brooklyn, there will be nowhere safe for you or your family to hide."

Lorenzo nods vigorously, his eyes gleaming with desperation as he eagerly seeks escape from the weight of his shackles. "By dawn," he repeats.

“You brought this on yourself,” I start, circling him like a predator sizing up its prey. “This could have been simple. You stay on your turf—I stay on mine. But you got greedy.” I say calmly, each word dripping with disappointment rather than anger.

His breath hitches as I lean close enough to whisper in his ear. “See, when you encroach on my territory, you threaten my family, my people.” My grip tightens around the knife handle as I pull back and hold it up to his face for him to see his reflection in the polished steel.

“And for that,” I continue as I place the cold blade against his cheek just lightly enough not to cut… yet. “You will pay.”

His eyes fill with fear, masked by stubborn pride, as he tries to keep himself composed under my gaze.

“Last chance, Enzo. Tell me who gave you the orders,” I demand with a low growl, pressing the knife enough to make a faint red line appear on his skin—a promise of what’s to come if he remains silent.

The tension hangs thick in the air, only broken by Enzo's labored breathing and another distant drop of water echoing off the concrete walls. His survival instincts finally kick in.

“It was Antonio Bello.”

The name sends a surge of burning fury through me. This isn't the first time Antonio has crossed lines he shouldn’t have dared to approach. I nod and slowly remove the knife from Enzo’s skin.

“Thank you for being… reasonable,” I say with a smirk, nicking his chin as I pull the knife away. “Dismissed.” With that single word, I turn away, effectively ending the confrontation that has been building for weeks.

As I pass the rows of imposing concrete pillars, I can feel the ripple of relief emanating from Lorenzo's men—their trembling signs of submission are like sweet music to my ears. In this cruel world, respect is the ultimate currency, and tonight, I’ve made a lucrative investment.