Alberto woke up with a shock from his nightmare. Twisting his head, he gazed at the deep night sky outside the window. Firelight rose, burning the sky red. The dew was heavy. He sat on his wheelchair and placed a blanket over his knees. The flames in the fireplace flickered and the high grade pinewood burned soundlessly. It emitted a fragrant scent, calming one down subconsciously.
Even if fire was burning downtown to ashes outside, it was still serene and peaceful inside, as if he belonged to another world. This was the reward that he deserved. As the leader of the Black Hand Gang—the Sicilian Mafia— that had once controlled one-third of downtown, Alberto was now old. He did not have the energy anymore.
While being old had its disadvantages, it also gave him the ability to see through things with old wisdom. For a leader, having good vision was the most important thing. And the current events proved that he was right.