♚ My phone rang, and I quickly answered it, knowing it was Rocco, my right-hand man. "Speak," I said, my tone curt.

"Boss, we got him," Rocco said, his excitement palpable over the phone.

"Who?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"Koen Santoro," he replied, and a small smile tugged at my lips.

Perfect. This was exactly what I needed to show my father that I was capable of taking over the family business.

"Bring him to the warehouse," I said, "and make sure he's secured."

"Already taken care of, boss. We'll be there soon."

I hung up and leaned back in my chair, my mind racing with possibilities. This was the perfect opportunity to strike back at the Santoro family, who had been our sworn enemies for years. I couldn't wait to see the look on their faces when they realized what I had done.

As I waited for Rocco and his men to arrive with Koen, I couldn't help but think about how I would use him to get what I wanted. I would make sure the Santoro family was on their knees, begging me to let their son go, all while I held the power.

I walked down to the warehouse with Rocco by my side. As we entered the dimly lit space, I saw Koen tied to a chair in the middle of the room. He was sweating and trembling, his eyes darting around the room. I walked up to him and crouched down to meet his gaze. "Hello, Koen," I said with a smirk. "Welcome to the Ferrara warehouse."

"Let me go," he spat, his eyes blazing with anger.

I laughed. "Oh, Koen. If only it were that simple. You see, I have a proposition for your family. One that they won't be able to refuse."

"You're wasting your time," he said, his voice filled with defiance, "Zio would rather I die than he negotiate with a Ferrara."

I only smirked, loading up my gun with new bullets as Koen gulped harshly. His eyes widened in fear as I pointed the gun at him, and he struggled against his restraints. "P-please let me go," he then pleaded. "M-my father...Papa will do anything you want. He'll pay any amount of money you ask for."

I chuckled, standing up to face Rocco. "Did you hear that, Rocco? Kid changed his tune. The Santoros are willing to pay anything for their precious little boy."

Rocco smirked back at me. "That's music to my ears, boss."

I turned back to Koen, feeling a sense of power coursing through my veins. "I don't want money, Koen," I said, my voice cold and hard, "I want something much more valuable."

Koen's eyes widened even further, and he began to sweat even more profusely. "W-what do you want?" he stammered.

"I want your Zio, Koen," I said, leaning in close to his face. "I want him to come crawling to me on his hands and knees, begging for your life."

Koen's face paled, and he began to sob uncontrollably. "Please don't do this," he begged, "Zio will never agree to your terms."

I stood up straight, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over me. "We'll see about that," I said, turning to leave the warehouse. "Rocco, keep our guest company. I have a call to make."

I walked up to the window, feeling a sense of exhilaration as I looked over the busy roads of New York City. This was the moment I had been waiting for, the moment to prove to my father that I was more than capable of taking over the Ferrara clan. And with Koen Santoro in our hands, I had the upper hand in this game of mafia chess. It was only a matter of time before the Santoro family came crawling to me, begging for their son's life. And I was ready to play my part.

I had a plan, and it involved using Koen as leverage. I knew that Paolo would do anything to get his nephew back, not because he cared but because he was too prideful to admit defeat against someone, especially a Ferrara. And now, I was going to use his pride against him and get him to give me control of their major empire properties.

I called Paolo and put the phone on speaker.

"Warren, what do you want?" Paolo said, his voice tense.

"Getting straight to the point, I see," I smirked. He was too tensed to think straight and it showed, "well then, I want free reign over your major empire properties," I said, "in return, I'll release Koen to you."

"You're out of your mind," Paolo said, his voice rising.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice, Paolo," I said calmly. "Bring the papers yourself and we'll make the exchange."

Paolo refused, but I knew he was bluffing. He needed Koen back, and he needed to protect his empire.

"Listen, Warren," Giovanni, Koen's father, spoke, "we can work something out. Just let Koen go."

"Sorry, Giovanni," I said. "I'm afraid it's too late for that. You should have thought of that before getting involved with my enemies. Now you get your Capo to bring me the papers or your son pays the price."

"You will never get control over our properties, piccola merda!" Paolo bellows and I chuckle.

"Careful, Paolo. You don't want me to put a bullet straight through your nephews skull now, do you?" I threaten as I pull the trigger of gun, shooting blindly towards a wall as the sound echoes through the room and Koen lets out a whimper, "this time the bullet passed by your nephew but it won't miss next time. You have an hour."

And with that, I hung up and turned to Koen.

"You're going to pay for your family's mistakes," I said, my voice cold.

Koen sobbed quietly, shivering in fear. He was just a 13 year old kid who thought he could buy drugs off of a sketchy seller, not knowing they were men of my allies. I knew he shouldn't have to pay for his uncle's actions but that's the way it works in our world. Anything can be leverage and that's why I knew that I needed to be ruthless. I had a reputation to maintain, and I couldn't let anyone cross me or dare use someone against me.

"I'm going to make an example out of you," I said, smiling, "and then I'm going to discard you at the bottom of the sea for your Papa and Zio to find."

"Every minute that passes by, make sure he suffers enough to remember how late his Papa was to save him," I tell Rocco as I softly grace my dagger against Koen's arm and a small drop of flood spills out of his fresh. Smirking, I toss the dagger to Rocco.

 
Koen's screams echo through the warehouse as I leave, feeling satisfied that I had made my point clear. I was going to make Paolo Santoro beg. And I was going to show my father that I was more capable than he ever was.