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“Whatever it is, you might as well tell me,” Severo finally looked up from the folder in front of him.

“Someone was waiting for me when I left. He said his name was Detective Calder and that he’s part of some task force investigating our family,” she revealed, removing her bag from her shoulder and placing it onto the table before slipping into her seat.

“I did some digging after the release party and learned that a task force is in play in our city.”

“A task force?” She looked at him incredulously. “Daddy, does⁠—”

“You, of all people, know that there are things about this family that are better left secret,” he interrupted her. “However, none of my dealings has anything to do with Aged Creek Whiskey. I would never have given you a business tied to any illegal activity. And I hope nothing Detective Calder said made you doubt that.”

“Never,” she replied with an intensity that made her father smile. “And I told him so while he was standing at the other end of my gun.”

Severo’s chuckle filled the room. “You are your father’s daughter.”

“I told him that too,” she grinned.

“As much as I love your fire, baby girl, we need to move more carefully right now to avoid any unwanted contact or attention. I’m going to do as much as I can to find out what the hell the Feds want, but I also need you to stay as alert as possible. Keep Aged Creek Whiskey running as smoothly as only you can, and I will handle the rest. If anyone bothers you again, call me immediately, and I’ll take care of it. Smoke will more than likely be hanging around more than usual. I know you love your freedom, but this is one of the times I need you to listen to me and adhere to what I say.”

Aella swallowed as a chill swept through her. Somehow, she already knew what her father was going to say, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear.

“As of tonight, our family is at war.”

Cassius leaned back in his chair, the low hum of the city filtering through the office windows, though the streets below were little more than shadows and headlights. The meeting at Sinsation replayed in his mind, a carefully choreographed dance of power and tension. Every face, every reaction, every subtle twitch had been logged and mentally filed.

Across the polished mahogany desk lay a scattered set of ledgers, shipping manifests, and confidential correspondence. The Farina family’s empire had grown since he’d left—so much so that Cassius had to admit he was wrong in assuming his father had been slacking over the years, at least on the business side of things.

That, however, raised another red flag for him. Who could have been careless enough to make a mistake that could topple decades of blood, sweat, and tears?

Shaking his head, Cassius tapped the folder impatiently.

Trust was a currency just as fragile as money these days.

His phone pinged on the desk, and Cassius retrieved it, swiping his thumb across the screen to read Mars’ message.

“Everyone accounted for and ready.”

Cassius stood, letting the tension in his shoulders ease just slightly as he pocketed his phone. The sublevel basement wasn’t far—just a few flights down, behind a hidden panel in the main hall, accessible only by those who knew its location and that it existed. He ran a hand over the smooth railing as he descended, each step echoing faintly against the stone walls.

The air grew cooler as he reached the bottom. Lamps cast long, golden shadows over the organized chaos of the space: filing cabinets, secure crates, and a long table where key members of the Farina organization were already gathered. Faces turned as he entered, some registering curiosity, others caution.

Cassius let his gaze sweep over them. There was Angelo, the logistics advisor who oversaw shipments and transport; Marco and Vittorio, twins in charge of security and enforcement; and a handful of newer faces—younger men who had been recruited in his absence but had allegedly already proven themselves competent enough to survive in this business.

“I’m sure some of you are likely wondering why my father isn’t the one leading this meeting,” Cassius began, seeing no reason to drag things out. “And it’s for one reason and one reason only. He’s been around each of you too long to sniff out a hint of disloyalty among the ranks. Me, however? I’m the not-so-fresh face that just got back to town, and while some of you know me well, others don’t. At least not personally. I’m sure you’ve heard of me, though.”

“You’re the enforcer, right?” one of the younger men asked, displaying just how green he was.

Unbuttoning his jacket, Cassius shrugged it off his shoulders and moved around the table to slam his fist into the young man’s face. “I’m not sure what went wrong with your initiation, young blood, but rule number one—never address the head of the family during a meeting without being directly addressed first,” he answered casually, returning to the center of the room. “But you’re not wrong. I was an enforcer. Now I’m the Underboss, which means y’all will be seeing me a lot more from now on. It also means that whatever the fuck was happening when my Pops was in charge is dead. I’m vetting every muthafucker in the organization, and if I don’t like what I uncover, you may as well pick out your casket. Daniel Korr isn’t the only reason the Feds are suddenly sniffing around. My job is to weed out the weak links and protect everyone in this org the best way I know how.”

Pausing, Cassius quietly observed each man in the room. “However, because I’m fair and understand that not everyone is cool with change, I’m offering an out to anyone who has an issue with the dynamic shifts. If you feel the Farina family is no longer a good fit for you and your interests, feel free to walk away. No beef, no consequences.”

He was lying, of course, but they didn’t need to know that. As he wasn’t sure what had gone on in his absence or how vulnerable his father’s recklessness had left them, Cassius knew he wouldn’t let any weak links slide.

His jaw twitched as he carefully watched for the slightest hint of dissent. He had to give it to his current team, though. No one so much as twitched a muscle.

“No objections?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Again, no one moved.

“Bet,” he nodded slowly. “In that case, everyone is dismissed. I’ll be in touch with each of y’all one by one moving forward.”