"That Stronzo Don Carlo is nothing! Sicily is now Don Cossa's even the Governor of Palermo …"

  Before Alessandro could finish his words, the young man standing behind him stepped forward, seemingly uncomfortable with Luke's disdain for his own boss. ??

  Luke narrowed his eyes and looked up. The other person's appearance was quite similar to Alessandro's. He may be a family member related by blood.

  "You have some good people."

  Luke was worried about the lack of an excuse to put down the mafia leader and test his determination to cooperate with the Allies. But now he got a chance to make a scene.

  "Elio! Shut up!"

  When Alessandro heard his nephew say such things, he rushed to slap him across the face.

  The young man in front of him wasn't someone he could afford to offend.

  Mussolini had taught the Mafia a lesson. No matter how powerful the Mafia was, there was no room for resistance against the state apparatus.

  This young man, who called himself 'Vito Corleone', represented the American military and is an ally.

  Once they anger the other party, they won't end up any better than if they provoked Mussolini.

  Boom!

  However, when Alessandro had just touched his nephew's face at that slap, a sound echoed in the Bronze Bell Tavern.

  No one saw exactly when Luke got up and how he pinned the young man named Elio on the table.

  The blood flowed down from his forehead as if his skull was cracked, and dripped to the ground.

  "Cough cough … Don Cossa … Uncle!"

  Elio felt his head was crushed like a watermelon, and it could explode completely in the next moment.

  He didn't know the terrible strength the young man had. Where did it come from? Five fingers and a palm came together like iron pinchers, pressing tightly on the back of his head.

  The excruciating pain, and the fear of death, made Elio's resolve instantly collapse!

  His tears flowed along with the blood and covered his whole face.

  "Cossa, tell me, what does the Mafia do to people who don't respect the alliance between two families?"

  Luke slowly sat back in his seat, ignoring the tense atmosphere and completely treating the group of people behind him as air.

  …


  As the only remaining mafia leader in Sicily, even the police officers are reluctant to mess with the ruthless man.

  Alessandro had a great deal of prestige and authority within his family and in Palermo.

  His status and power were increasing with each passing day.

  When ordinary people see him, they must address him as 'Sir' to show their respect.

  And other heads of the family, either brought in, or suppressed. Gradually, every meeting turned out to be a meeting where Alessandro expressed his personal opinion and allocated their interests and turf.

  Although the Mafia wasn't as good as it used to be, they always had to worry about whether Mussolini would come for the purge again and had to be on the run. But Alessandro, who had taken advantage of this power struggle to rise to the top, gradually made them stronger in his hands. This was a fact that didn't need to be questioned.

  Therefore, the SSR took a fancy to him and he, seeing a chance, became an informant.

  However, Alessandro, who was regarded as 'Don' by people and worshipped by many members, showed a trace of fear on his face, when he heard Luke's indifferent tone.

  Having experienced Mussolini's great purge, he had a strong psychological shadow about the military, which was essentially a powerful institution.

  If he offended this young Captain, he would lose support of the Allied forces. Sooner or later, after the war, he would be targeted by the purge.

  Even if he switched to Mussolini's side, according to the dictator's temper, he was afraid it wouldn't end well.

  Thinking to this point, Alessandro's hands trembled slightly. On his chubby face, a touch of ruthlessness rose.

  "Mr. Corleone, I apologize to you for Elio's disrespect!"

  He placed his palm on the table, and with a swish, drew a dagger from behind his waist and sliced down viciously.

  "Ahhh! Ahhh——"

  The screams of pain echoed in the Bronze Bell Tavern.

  A thick radish-like finger tumbled on the table.

  Large beads of sweat seeped out from his forehead, rolling down his nose, and slowly dripping.

  Alessandro gasped and said, "Mr. Corleone, are you satisfied?"

  Luke loosen the palm on Elio's head. Deadpan, he slowly shook his head.

  "I didn't tell you to make amends! Cossa, I wanted you to explain how the Mafia treats people who don't respect their alliance? "

  "Mr. Corleone, I …"

  "Don't you understand? Cossa, please tell me, how much does your Mafia value the friendships with us?"

  Luke's voice remained cold, but it brought heavy pressure to Alessandro.

  He knew that the young Captain was not an amateur that could be fooled.

  The bloody practice of cutting off one's finger off is a common way for the Mafia to ask for mercy, but it failed to impress the other party.

  Alessandro glanced at Elio, who was pale with fear, and sighed inside.

  "Carmelo! Drag Elio down and bring me his hand!"