I was the mafia boss people in three counties knew as Gabriel “The Saint” Romano, a man whose name could empty a room without anyone raising their voice. But when I found a ten-year-old boy walking alone along a dangerous country road, hiding what had been happening to him because he wanted to protect his exhausted mother, I discovered the people tormenting him were connected to a family already causing trouble inside my organization.

Inside the small, warm living room, Sarah wrapped Mason in a thick blanket and set a plate of heated-up stew before him. After making sure he was safe in the kitchen, she stepped back into the living room, her eyes defensive yet tired.

"You're that Romano," she said, her voice trembling slightly as she stood near the small fireplace. "The one people talk about in town."

"I am," I replied, sitting uninvited on the worn sofa only to demonstrate that I intended to stay until this was settled. "But tonight, I am simply a man who doesn't tolerate children being harmed in his city."

Vincent knocked twice on the front door and entered, holding a secure tablet. He handed it to me without a word.

"My lieutenant received a report ten minutes ago," I said, showing Sarah the screen. "Your son wasn't just being bullied for lunch money, Mrs. Vance. Young Leo Carbone—grandson of Salvatore Carbone—has been running a syndicate inside the middle school. He recruits older kids to extort younger ones, demanding specific dollar amounts every Tuesday and Thursday."

Sarah's jaw tightened. "Why? Why would middle school kids do that?"

"Because someone taught them how," I said coldly. "The money isn't staying in those boys' pockets. It's being placed in sealed white envelopes and delivered to a courier who parks behind the strip mall on 5th Street twice a week."

Vincent stepped forward. "The courier drives a gray sedan registered to an associate of Salvatore Carbone. Salvatore has been using these kids to run a low-level extortion ring, testing the waters to see if he could siphon off untraced cash under your nose, Boss."

The room went dead silent.

Salvatore Carbone had sat at my dinner table three nights ago, drinking my wine, praising my leadership, and assuring me that his transport businesses were suffering due to the slow economy. Meanwhile, he was running a coward's racket using children to steal from single mothers.

Sarah sank into an armchair, burying her face in her hands. "This town... it feels like no matter how hard I work, someone is always waiting to tear us down. Mason has been hiding this for months? Just to save me from crying?"

I stood up, adjusting my cuffs.

"Mason showed incredible strength today," I said, looking toward the kitchen where the boy was quietly eating. "He carried a burden no ten-year-old should ever touch. But his shift is over. It's mine now."