Chapter 11 In My Mind

• Ronan
• The room was dimly lit, thick with cigar smoke and the low murmur of voices. My father sat at the head of the long mahogany table, flanked by the older capos and lieutenants, his sharp eyes sweeping across the room like a lion surveying his pride. I sat just beside him—his son, the heir, the shadow he was grooming to take his place.
• "Our operation at the port is tightening up," he said, his voice firm. "No more slip-ups. I want the next shipment moved cleanly. No delays, no questions."