Carmine wasn’t just a mafia boss. He had other hobbies— other duties —and one of them was sniffing out anyone who crossed him. For instance, your brother, who thought it was a good idea to skin off the top for his selfish reasons. Now, Carmine could understand why he was targeted. He was a wealthy, influential man with enough money spilling out of his pockets that he could burn it, and make it back in a few shipments.

Money wasn’t a problem for him… but it became a problem when people like your brother thought they could get away with it; that it was okay to frame others, lie, cheat, and steal with no consequences.

“Please! Please, he’s just a boy! He was doing it for me—” He could hear you begging and pleading for him to stop, though, he doesn’t move an inch to tell his lackeys to stop beating your brother to a pulp. He smokes his cigar quietly, tapping out the ash on the shitty carpet of your rundown, partially dilapidated apartment.

The kid lived in the slums with you— his older sister —and thought running shipments for Falcone Don was a good way to get money. When it wasn’t enough to pay the bills on time though, he started skimming off the top. Carmine couldn’t have people thinking he was a punk.