The Bear

Sicily

Italy

My hand gripped the wood tighter, my eyes over the olive groves, out into the night sky. The beautiful ocean, which in the day light shone a bright blue, was at the bottom of the hill and I took my eyes away from it, turning around on the balcony. 

“Say it again,” I said roughly, Santo standing by the door of my office, directly in front of me. His dark hair was long, his stomach round and he sighed, moving from one foot to the other.

“They tried to hijack a shipment of shotguns, headed for Naples,” he explained for the second time and for the second time, my jaw clenched, running my tongue along my top teeth.

“They were unsuccessful?” I wondered, raising my eyebrow and Santo nodded, his face serious. “Santo, tell me,” I paused, moving past him, into my office. It was dark, mahogany as far as the eye could see and I ripped open the door, silence throughout the house. “Enzo!” I bellowed, hearing him running up the stairs.

“Tell me, because I need to know, who the fuck the Moretti’s think they are!” I screamed, picking up a gold vase on one of the bookcases, launching it against the wall, the crash echoing through the large room.

“Orso,” Enzo said softly and I spun around, staring at both men. The fury was running through my veins, making my chest ache, my breathing heavy.

“My fucking boat,” I growled, walking towards Enzo, his hand coming to my chest. He was shorter than me, his dark hair pushed to one side, tattoos peeking out of the top of his suit, just like my own.

“They were unsuccessful, they didn’t get shit and-”

“Fuck off!” I threw my hands up, collapsing on my desk chair. “That fucking scum thought for a moment, that they could take my boats?!” I shouted at them both, pointing a finger at myself. “You are my underboss,” I pointed at Santo, him standing straighter. “You my fucking caporegime,” I barked at Enzo, him never as formal as Santo. “So, we are going in there and fucking killing every single one of them, do you hear me?” I stood, my anger going nowhere and I was moments from finding them fucks and gutting them.

“The men who attempted the hijacking are done,” Santo growled, and it wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t fucking good enough and the balls on the Moretti’s, a family who were dirty new money, shit on my families shoe had the audacity to try and fuck with my boats.

“Remind me what the bitches name is, who runs that shit show?” I pulled open my desk drawer, lighting a cigarette from it, the smoke going over my face.

“Davide-” Enzo started.

“Puttana,” I spat, taking two pulls of the cigarette, before handing it to Enzo.

“Orso, you do not rise to anger,” Santo put his hand out and he was right, but I just needed five fucking minutes to lose it.

“Get one of your boys to find Moretti’s boats, the times, the days,” I instructed Santo, his hand gripping my shoulder.

“It will be done boss,” he said firmly, walking out of my office and I fell back on my chair, looking up at the ceiling.

“Orso,” Enzo sighed, and I didn’t look at him, my head still upwards. “The Alighieri’s are warriors, you are a fucking bear,” he growled, his hand on my desk as I looked down. “The Moretti’s,” he shrugged, half laughing. “They sell swords to make money, what the fuck?” Enzo laughed now and I broke slightly, just for a moment, a chuckle coming out of me.

“But yet they touch my boats? Boats they know belong to me and this family, boats they know is full of fucking weapons,” I fumed, my anger rising again. “I cannot believe the audacity, they think we are equals?” I threw my hands up and Enzo sat on the corner of my desk, his hands in his suit pockets.

“We will deal with it, like we always do,” he attempted to soothe me, and Enzo probably was the only one that could. Not only was he my caporegime, my captain, he was my best friend, from the moment I could walk.

“Go home,” I threw my hand out and he stood, doing up his jacket button.

“You want a war?” He wondered, his eyebrows upwards.

“Always,” I smirked, and he threw his hand up as he left my office. It was late, but the exact time was unknown to me, because it didn’t matter and I attempted to take long deep breaths, my eyes forward, at the painting of my father on the wall in front of me. Enzo was right, the Alighieri’s were warriors, but we were also powerful, our name known through the whole of Italy. My lineage travelled to Florence, to artists and men with more money they could ever spend. We travelled to Sicily, where our connections to the fascists running our country allowed us to partly control it. My great grandfather had the regime eating out the palm of his hand, while he financed the ones trying to knock it down. It made us powerful, respected and even richer, the family at the top of the Sicilian mafia. Other families came and went, and the Moretti’s were no different. Their family were run by snakes, who sold swords to get started, then betrayed us, to feed information back to the politicians. In my world nobody did anything for free, and their reward was half of the docks, but somehow that wasn’t good enough and they attempted to take my boats down, from my own private dock no less. At thirty-two, I was young but my father being murdered meant I was catapulted into power which I had no issue with. I was ready, long before my father even died. I was named Orso for a reason - the bear.

I let out a grunt as my door opened, her walking in slowly.

“Orso,” my grandmother, Vittoria said softly, and my eyes were still straight, in a failed attempt to relax.

“What is it?” I came back at her, looking over finally as she came towards my desk. Her dark eyes had wrinkles all around them, her greying hair pulled back into a braid.

“There is an auction tomorrow in the city,” she explained and I moved forward, my hands on my desk. “There is a piece, a watch, which I feel would benefit being in our hands,” she said dryly, and I looked at her up and down quickly, waiting for her to speak again. “It originally belongs to the Moretti’s,” she finished, and I had much bigger problems with them fucks then a watch.

“Who fucking cares,” I shrugged, her hand on my wrist.

“A Moretti family heirloom in the hands of the Alighieri’s?” She tipped her head to the side. “I apologise Orso, I thought you wanted to piss them off.”

“I want to kill them,” I clarified, Nonna chuckling gently.

“Think about it,” she said as she walked out of my office and I slumped down on my chair, gripping the sides tightly, I suppose it would have to do, for now.