Chapter 15 – A New Pawn
The alley behind the pawn shop reeked of stale beer and desperation, its narrow confines lit by the flickering neon sign of a nearby strip club. Lucky Moretti leaned against the brick wall, his sharp eyes scanning the scene like a hawk sizing up its prey. The air was thick with tension—cigarette smoke hung low, mixing with the metallic tang of sweat and regret. This was his world: fast-paced, unpredictable, and always on the edge of chaos.
A group of low-level thugs stood near the entrance, their laughter echoing through the space as they counted cash from a recent heist. One of them noticed Lucky watching and sneered. "You think you're slick, kid? Tryin' to hustle us?"
Lucky smirked, stepping forward with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. "Not tryin', man. I *am* slick."
Before anyone could respond, a shout erupted from deeper within the alley. Someone had been caught red-handed attempting to scam one of Vinnie's men—a mistake punishable by more than just fists. And there, standing in the middle of it all, was Lucky, his hands raised defensively as the larger thug advanced, snarling threats.
Dom Ricci emerged from the shadows, his presence commanding attention without saying a word. He watched Lucky closely, noting how the young hustler reacted under pressure.
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Lucky wasn't built for violence—he was built for words, charm, and quick thinking. As the thug closed in, Lucky's mind raced. Instead of fighting back, he started talking, fast and smooth.
"Hey, hey, let me explain," Lucky stammered, his voice steady despite the tremor in his legs. "This ain't what it looks like. I'm not some punk trying to rip you off—I'm here to help!"
The thug paused, clearly amused. "Help? You think we need your help, kid?"
"I know someone who does," Lucky replied, his grin widening. "Someone big. Someone you don't wanna piss off."
The thug tilted his head, intrigued but skeptical. "Oh yeah? Who's that?"
Before Lucky could answer, Dom stepped fully into view, his silhouette cutting through the dim light like a shadow given form.
"You," Dom said coolly, lighting a cigarette.
The thug froze, recognizing the voice instantly. "Boss Ricci... didn't think you'd be breathing this air anymore."
"Not tonight," Dom replied, exhaling smoke. His gaze never left Lucky, studying every twitch, every glance.
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It quickly became clear why the thugs were so upset. Lucky had attempted to sell them a stolen gun—one that belonged to Dom himself. It was either reckless stupidity or calculated bravado, depending on how you looked at it.
The lead thug turned toward Dom, anger flaring. "So this is your new errand boy? Sending kids to do dirty work now?"
Dom held up a hand, silencing him. "No one sent him anywhere. Lucky here decided to play cowboy on his own time."
He turned to Lucky, his expression unreadable. "Care to explain?"
Lucky swallowed hard, his earlier bravado faltering under Dom's piercing stare. "I... I heard these guys worked for Vinnie. Thought maybe if I showed 'em I could handle myself, they'd think twice about messing with you."
"And instead, they almost broke your legs," Dom observed dryly.
Lucky shrugged, forcing a laugh. "Close counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, right?"
Dom exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "Reckless doesn't get you far in my world, kid."
The thug sneered. "Yeah, well, maybe you should teach him that before he gets both of you killed."
Dom glanced at the man, his tone flat. "Teaching's overrated. What happens next depends entirely on him."
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Later that night, back at the safehouse, Dom laid out a task for Lucky. It wasn't glamorous—just a simple delivery job involving an unmarked package destined for a dangerous buyer.
"This isn't about skill," Dom explained, setting the package on the table. "It's about discipline. You follow orders. You deliver. That's it."
Lucky nodded eagerly, already imagining the possibilities. "Got it, boss. No problem."
Marco, sitting nearby, snorted. "Kid, if you mess this up, Dom won't hesitate to put a bullet in your brain."
Lucky shot Marco a nervous smile. "Relax, Mack. I got this."
As Lucky prepared to leave, Dom added one final warning. "And remember—this isn't a chance to prove yourself. It's a chance to stay alive. Don't make me regret trusting you."
Lucky swallowed hard, nodding again. "Yes, sir."
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The delivery went smoothly—for about ten minutes.
When Lucky arrived at the designated location, a dimly lit diner parking lot, the buyer was waiting. But Lucky, eager to impress, decided to add his own flair. When the man insulted Dom, calling him "yesterday's news," Lucky snapped.
"You don't talk about him like that," Lucky growled, stepping closer.
The buyer laughed, pulling a knife. "Or what? You gonna stop me?"
Things escalated quickly. Lucky managed to disarm the man after a brief scuffle, earning a bruised ego and a cut lip in the process. But the fight drew unwanted attention—a black SUV pulled up moments later, spilling out Vinnie's enforcers.
Lucky bolted, leaving the package behind.
Back at the safehouse, Dom listened silently as Lucky recounted the story, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and pride.
"You disobeyed a direct order," Dom said finally, his tone deceptively calm.
"I—I did it for you!" Lucky protested. "That guy disrespected you! I couldn't just stand there—"
Dom cut him off with a sharp look. "Respect isn't earned by throwing punches, kid. Respect is earned by knowing when to shut up and follow instructions."
Marco, watching from the corner, chimed in. "Sounds like someone else I used to know."
Dom ignored him, focusing on Lucky. "If you want to survive in this world, you learn two things: control and respect. Without them, you're nothing but cannon fodder."
Lucky deflated, realizing his mistake. "I'll do better, I swear."
Dom exhaled, rubbing his temples. "You better. Because next time, I won't step in."
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After dismissing Lucky, Dom sat alone in the dim light of the safehouse, staring at the empty doorway where the kid had disappeared. Marco approached cautiously, holding a glass of whiskey.
"You really think he's worth it?" Marco asked, sliding the drink across the table.
Dom took a slow sip, savoring the burn. "He's ambitious. Smart. Reckless as hell, but those traits can be useful—if channeled properly."
Marco grunted. "Or they'll get him killed."
"Probably," Dom admitted, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "But sometimes, you take risks. Sometimes, you roll the dice."
Marco shook his head, amused. "You're softening, Dom. First Marco, now Lucky. Next thing you know, you'll be running a daycare."
Dom chuckled, though there was no humor in it. "Don't confuse mercy with opportunity, Mack. Lucky might be a liability today, but tomorrow? He could be an asset."
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Hours later, as the city settled into its restless sleep, Dom caught sight of Lucky outside the window, pacing nervously while smoking a cigarette. Despite his earlier failure, the kid still looked determined—like he believed he belonged in this world.
Dom opened the door, stepping onto the fire escape. "Still here?"
Lucky spun around, startled. "Yeah. I... I wanted to show you I'm serious. About learning, about following orders, about—"
"About being part of something bigger than yourself?" Dom finished, leaning against the railing.
Lucky hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Something like that."
Dom studied him for a moment, seeing pieces of his younger self reflected in the kid's wide eyes and restless energy. "Alright. Tomorrow, we'll start teaching you the real game."
Lucky grinned, relief washing over him. "Thank you, boss."
"Don't thank me yet," Dom warned, his voice dropping lower. "Because pawns only matter until they become liabilities. Stay smart, kid—or you'll find yourself replaced faster than you can blink."
As Lucky walked away, Dom lit another cigarette, watching him disappear into the night. Behind him, Marco appeared, leaning against the doorway.
"You sure about this?" Marco asked, his tone laced with doubt.
Dom exhaled smoke, glancing at Marco. "We'll see. Either way, someone's watching. Someone always is."
At that moment, a figure slipped out of the shadows across the street, disappearing into the darkness. Whether it was Mira, Calderone, or one of Vinnie's spies, Dom knew the stakes were rising—and Lucky was now part of the equation.
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As the rain began to fall, washing away the dirt of the city streets, Dom felt a familiar weight settle in his chest. Every move carried consequences, every decision came with costs. Lucky might be a pawn now, but pawns often dreamed of crowns—and dreams had a way of turning deadly in the underworld.
Somewhere out there, Vinnie Costa was getting reports of Dom's growing crew. Somewhere else, Mira watched from the shadows, her motives unclear. And somewhere farther still, Detective Calderone scribbled notes in his journal, wondering which side would break first.
For now, Dom Ricci was building—not just an empire, but a team. But teams required trust, and trust? That was a luxury none of them could afford—not yet.