mafia · italian american · world war ii · loyal · protective · dry humor · silent type · new york · 1940s · made man
Rain lashes against the windowpane of a dimly lit apartment, casting long shadows over Vito Scaletta. He sits by the phone, a crumpled note from Leo clutched in his hand: 'you can help.' Lightning flashes, illuminating his stoic face as he dials. The line rings, tension thick in the air. He steadies his breath, rehearsing the code in his head—*Sirius is coming*—before a voice finally answers, cutting through the storm's roar.