Blue; The Mafia's Angel

Chapter Three: Iron and Blood

Leo POV

I stood in the mansion’s war room, my hands braced on a table littered with maps and burner phones. The deal was set—two million in cash for a shipment of AR-15s and C4 at the Brooklyn docks, and I wasn’t leaving anything to chance. New York bowed to me, every family, every street, and I kept it that way with blood and fear. As the boss of bosses, I crushed anyone who dared test me.

That night, Enzo’s jersey crew was buying, and I’d make sure they remembered who owned them. My Glock was heavy in its holster, a reminder of what kept me on top. Failure wasn’t an option.

Luca strode in, my bodyguard and the only man I trusted. His scar gleamed under the dim lights, and his eyes were sharp, ready for trouble.

“Crew’s set, boss,” he said, tossing me a radio.

“Marco’s at the docks.” Jersey’s on their way.”

“They’d better be,” I said, my voice low and hard.

“Enzo’s got one shot to play this right.” I clipped the radio to my belt and grabbed my coat, black wool that blended with the night. Power wasn’t just money or guns—it was making men like Enzo sweat before they even saw me.

We passed through the foyer, where maids scrubbed floors and guards stood rigid. I caught a glimpse of Blue Moore, Vincent’s daughter, wiping down a table. She was just another servant, here to pay her father’s debts, her bruises fading under the lights.

Madam Bam had said she was quick, but I didn’t care. She was nothing to me, just a piece of Vincent’s failure.

“Keep things tight,” I told Madam Bam, who nodded, her face like stone.

“Always, Master,” she said, glancing at Blue.

“The girl’s doing her job.”

“Good,” I said, and moved on. The deal was my focus, not some debtor’s kid. Luca drove us to the docks, the city’s lights fading into a maze of warehouses and cranes. The air hit hard—salt, diesel, and the faint rot of the waterfront. My crew waited by the water: Marco, my lieutenant, lean and wired, and three enforcers, each with a rifle slung low. Crates sat under tarps, our shipment hidden from prying eyes. I lit a cigarette, the flare cutting into the dark, and checked my watch. Enzo was late, and I didn’t tolerate delays.

“Two minutes,” I said, my voice slicing through the quiet.

“Then we walk.” Marco shifted, his eyes darting.

“They’ll show, boss. Enzo’s not that dumb.”“He’d better not be,” I said, exhaling smoke. Luca stood closely, his hand near his Glock, scanning the shadows.

Loyalty was everything, and Luca had proved this a hundred times. The others? I watched them like hawks.

Headlights pierced the fog, and two SUVs rolled up. Enzo climbed out, his cheap suit wrinkled, his grin too wide. Four guys followed, one twitchy, his hand hovering near his jacket. I marked him instantly—trouble.

“Leo Greg,” Enzo said, his voice loud, like he was putting on a show.

“Got the goods?”

“Quiet,” I snapped, crushing my cigarette under my boot.

“You got the cash?” He dropped a duffel bag at my feet.

“Two mil, as promised.

"Let’s see the toys.” I nodded to Marco, who ripped the tarp off a crate. Rifles glinted, sleek and deadly, with bricks of C4 stacked beside them. Enzo’s eyes lit up, but I watched Twitchy, his fingers twitching closer to his jacket. My hand rested on my Glock, ready to end this if it went south.

“Looks solid,” Enzo said, rubbing his hands. “We’re good, right?”

“Count it,” I told Luca, my tone flat. He unzipped the bag, flipping through stacks of hundreds. I stepped toward Enzo, my height making him flinch. “You screw me, you’re done.

"Clear?” He laughed, but it was shaky.

“All good, Leo. "No tricks,” Luca nodded.

“Cash is right, boss.” I eased back, but my eyes stayed on Twitchy.

“Load the crates,” I said, and my crew moved fast. Then Twitchy lunged, a knife flashing toward Marco. I was on him in a heartbeat, slamming his arm down until the blade hit the ground. My fist cracked his jaw, and he dropped, blood spilling from his mouth. I pinned him with my boot, my Glock at his temple.“You set this up?” I snarled at Enzo, my voice low and lethal.

The docks froze, my crew’s guns trained on his men.

“No, Leo, I swear!” Enzo stammered, hands up, sweat beading on his face.

“He’s a nobody, acting stupid!”

I pressed the gun harder, my blood roaring. One shot, and he’d be gone. But bodies brought heat, and I wasn’t sloppy. “You’re out of chances,” I said, kicking Twitchy toward Enzo.

“Take your trash and go.”Enzo’s crew grabbed the crates and their bleeding man, tires screeching as they fled.

Luca spat on the ground, holstering his gun. “Punks,” he said.I straightened, the rush of control burning through me. This was my city, my empire, and nobody crossed me.

“Clean it up,” I told Marco, nodding at the dock.

“No traces.”

Back at the mansion, I locked the cash in my safe, my pulse still high. The deal was done, and New York knew I wasn’t playing. I poured a bourbon, the glass cold in my hand, and planned my next move. Nobody would challenge me again.