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Pat*eon : Belamy20
Naruto: Uchiha Shiroge Rebellion
"Don't sweat it," Lawson said, slicing straight through the tension. "Focus on the good stuff—you boys are about to be millionaires."
The reminder hit like a shot of good whiskey. Huge grins split across Dom, Jesse, and Donnie's faces.
Back in 2000, the word "millionaire" still carried real magic.
When it came time to split the take, Vince and Jesse went straight for the gold bars. They didn't trust bearer bonds—too much like paper promises. Gold you could feel, heavy and real in your hands.
Dom, smarter than the rest, split his twenty percent down the middle: half gold, half bonds. He'd clearly done the math on how much a full ton actually weighed.
At the time, a metric ton of gold was running about $9.2 to $9.3 million. The whole haul was valued at a clean hundred million, so the Toretto crew's cut came to twenty million even.
Split four ways—including Mia—that was five million apiece. Half a ton of gold per person. Dom was hauling Mia's share too, meaning he'd be stuffing a full metric ton into the trunk of a street car. The suspension would've folded like cheap lawn furniture.
Bonds were the only practical move. Easier to hide, easier to launder. Walk into any real bank with five hundred kilos of raw gold and the IRS would be kicking your door in before the teller finished counting.
Black-market fences would take a savage cut, too. But Vince and Jesse were too busy staring at all that shiny yellow to think that far ahead.
"Payout's settled," Dom said, slamming the reinforced trunk shut. "We're rolling."
"Leaving already?"
"Yeah. Sitting still with this much weight feels stupid."
"Smart. Lay low for a while, let the heat bleed off."
Dom laughed. "Already planned on it. Soon as we're paid, we're disappearing south of the border for six months. You in, Lawson?"
Lawson considered it. Six months in Mexico sounded like heaven, but the Bonanno civil war was still boiling over. He couldn't walk away right now.
"I'd love to, but my plate's full. You guys head down first. If things quiet, I'll call."
"Line stays open," Dom said.
As Dom reached for the door, Lawson caught his arm and dropped his voice so only he could hear.
"Vince is a liability. Watch him close."
Dom brushed it off. "He talks big sometimes. Don't hold it against him. We grew up together—I know the guy."
Lawson didn't push. He'd delivered the warning; the rest was on Dom.
"Have a good trip."
"You too. Wrap your shit up and come find us. Mia'd love to see you."
Dom was still playing matchmaker. Lawson just smiled. "We'll see."
Engines roared to life. The Toretto crew peeled out, 1.5 tons of gold riding with them.
Lawson turned to Donnie.
"You were the MVP today. Ten million. Gold or bonds?"
Donnie's eyes widened. "That much?"
"You did the real work. You earned the bigger slice."
Donnie had expected an even split. The bonus caught him off guard.
"What about Jack?"
"Jack gets ten too," Lawson said. (Which meant he was keeping it.)
Donnie grinned. "I'll take a few bars for Maggie—maybe melt 'em into something nice for the kids. Rest in bonds."
Classic family man. Lawson handed over the bearer bonds, then waved at his own stack.
"Grab a couple extra bars for the kids. My treat."
"You sure?"
"Positive. Loyalty like yours is rare. Consider it an investment."
Donnie didn't argue. He loaded the bars with a grateful nod.
Lawson's phone buzzed. Eva.
She never called unless someone was bleeding or the house was on fire.
He answered instantly. Her voice came low and urgent.
"Lawson, big problem. Antonio Costa and Felice Marino just stormed the estate. They're demanding an immediate family sit-down with Sofia."
"Sit-down about what?"
"No idea. Sofia's stalling them in the study so I could slip out and call you, but she can't hold them much longer."
"I'm on my way. If they force the meeting, text me the location."
"Copy. Going back in."
Lawson hung up, jaw tight.
"Trouble?" Donnie asked.
"Yeah. Things just got ugly at home."
Antonio and Felice hated each other. The fact they were suddenly on the same page meant they'd cut a backroom deal.
If those two capos presented a united front, even Luca Pastore might fold. Luca's only real loyalty was to the survival of the Bonanno name. If keeping Sofia meant ripping the family in half, he'd throw her to the wolves without blinking.
That wasn't being a bad guy—it was just mob math. When push came to shove, the individual always got sacrificed for the family.
"Need backup?" Donnie asked, hand already resting on his bag.
Lawson weighed it. "Take the garbage truck into the city limits and wait for my call. Stay off the main highways—cops will be running checkpoints after that vault job."
"Got it. Comms open."
Lawson sprinted for the Dodge Viper, fired up the screaming V10, and burned rubber toward Malibu.
---
Back at the estate, the air in the study was thick enough to chew.
"Madam Sofia," Felice said, voice dripping with false concern, "given the recent tragedies, it's time we cleared the air. The men are restless. They need the truth if they're supposed to keep earning."
Antonio stood silent beside him, eyes sharp as a hawk's.
Sofia held her ground. A month of assassination attempts and FBI raids had forged steel in her spine. The former trophy wife was gone.
"What exactly do you want to announce, Felice?"
"The truth you've been hiding from us, of course."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Felice gave a nasty little smile. "I have to admit, I underestimated you. Never realized what a brilliant actress you were. No wonder you had Old Martin wrapped around your finger."
Sofia played dumb, but her pulse was racing.
"If this isn't actual family business, get out of my study. I have a headache and I'm going to bed."
"I'm afraid that's not possible," Felice sneered. "We've already called a formal sit-down. Your presence is required."
This wasn't a meeting. This was a coup.
Sofia turned to Luca, who stood quietly in the corner looking guilty as sin. Clearly the two capos had cornered him first.
"Mr. Pastore. Do you support this?"
Luca opened his mouth, but Antonio smoothly stepped between them, cutting off her view of her last ally.
"Of course Luca supports it," Antonio said. "Otherwise he wouldn't be here."
Sofia's face finally paled. She was alone.
Then the heavy oak doors burst open. Eva stormed in.
"Fuck! Who told you to come in here?!" Felice roared. "Get out!"
Eva didn't flinch. She drew her CZ-75 and put the muzzle right between Felice's eyes.
"Say that again, motherfucker."
Felice froze. He'd never seen a woman pull iron over an insult.
Even in their world, a gun was the final card. You didn't draw unless you meant to use it.
Antonio flinched. "Madam Sofia! Is this how you run your house?!"
Luca stepped forward, voice tight. "Madam—"
Eva's presence gave Sofia a fresh surge of courage. She remembered she wasn't alone. Lawson was coming.
She let the ice-cold Mafia Queen persona take over.
"Eva, put the gun away. I'm sure Mr. Costa, Mr. Marino, and Mr. Pastore would never stoop so low as to threaten a defenseless widow in her own home."
The sarcasm landed like a slap. Both capos flushed dark red.
Eva slowly lowered the pistol, but her eyes never left them.
"Gentlemen, my job is to protect Madam Sofia. Don't make me do it."
Felice spat, "We'll see how tough you talk at St. Lucy's Church!"
He spun on his heel and stormed out. Antonio followed.
Luca lingered, sighing heavily. "Madam… it doesn't have to be like this. Think of the family."
Sofia's eyes turned to frost.
"Why aren't you telling them to think of the family? Because they have more guns? In your world, does the weak always have to sacrifice themselves to keep the strong happy?"
Luca had no answer. He lowered his head and left.
Sofia didn't watch him go. She already knew whose side he was really on.
When the dust settled, only one man was still truly in her corner.
With no other choice, she let the capos' armed guards escort her to St. Lucy's Church.
---
8:30 p.m. St. Lucy's Church.
Less than a month after Francis Ricci's disastrous meeting, the entire Bonanno family had been summoned back to the pews. The tension was thick enough to choke on. Everyone could feel the storm coming.
The last time they'd gathered here, Francis had fallen. Tonight, blood was almost guaranteed.
Having learned from Lawson's Joker stunt and Eva's open defiance, Felice and Antonio had locked the church down tight—snipers on the hills, made men at every door. No one was crashing this party.
Felice stood at the pulpit, playing convener.
"Brothers," he began, voice echoing off the stained glass, "we called this sit-down to finally deal with the rot tearing our family apart from the inside."
The packed church sat in dead silence.
"First issue," Felice announced, "the mysterious disappearance of the family's operational cash reserves. Madam Sofia… care to explain?"
Sofia stayed seated in the front pew, voice steady. "I already did. Francis Ricci secretly moved the money out of the accounts."
Felice leaned forward with a sneer. "Is that so? Or did you conspire with Francis to steal it… then have him silenced to cover your tracks?"
The accusation exploded through the room like a grenade. Murmurs and gasps rippled through the pews.
Antonio looked distinctly uncomfortable—he was the one who'd actually ordered the hit on Francis.
Luca, however, was furious. This wasn't the deal. Felice was straight-up framing Sofia.
"Felice," Luca barked, standing up, "do you have a single shred of proof?"
"I don't need proof!" Felice roared. "Every witness—Francis, Alberto Bruno—they're all dead! But look at the facts! Who benefited most from their deaths? Madam Sofia! She's the prime suspect! What do you all think?!"
Luca's face darkened. He was a loyalist. He couldn't stomach watching Old Martin's wife get publicly crucified.
"Felice, if you don't have proof, shut your mouth!"
Felice's eyes gleamed. "You want proof? I'll give you proof!"
---