The Blood Oath of Draevenmoor

Jack "The Bull" Morano sipped his espresso, gazing out at the tranquil morning scene before him. The sun cast its golden light upon the small café, illuminating the gentle bustle of patrons. He savored the bitter flavor, feeling the warmth spread through his chest. This was his happy place – a world away from the chaos he once knew.

Jack's thoughts drifted to his wife, Sarah, who had passed away a year ago. Her memory still lingered, a bittersweet reminder of the life they built together. He had retired from the Mafia to be with her, to leave the violence behind. Now, he continued their quiet life, finding solace in the mundane routines.

The café's door swung open, and a young woman entered, her dark hair styled in a sleek bob. She spotted Jack and smiled, her eyes sparkling with familiarity. Jack returned the smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. She was Sophia, the café owner's daughter, who had grown up hearing stories about Jack's past.

Sophia approached him, her heels clicking on the tile floor. "Hey, Jack. The usual?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Jack nodded, and Sophia expertly crafted his second espresso. They exchanged small talk, discussing everything from the weather to their shared love of Italian cuisine. Jack felt a sense of belonging, a connection to this new life he had built.

But the tranquility was short-lived. A black sedan pulled up outside, its tinted windows reflecting the morning light like dark mirrors. Jack's instincts kicked in, his gaze locked onto the vehicle. Sophia noticed his sudden tension and followed his gaze.

"Who is that?" she whispered, her brow furrowed with concern.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "I don't know, but I'm about to find out."

Jack's gut told him something was off. He tossed a few bills on the counter, his eyes fixed on the sedan. Sophia's voice trailed behind him, "Jack, be careful!"

He pushed open the door, stepping into the bright sunlight. The sedan's engine hummed, a low vibration that seemed to match the growing unease in Jack's chest. He approached the vehicle, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun he no longer carried.

The passenger window slid down, revealing a familiar face. Marco Esposito, a high-ranking member of the Morano crime family, gazed out at Jack with an unreadable expression. Jack's mind raced, wondering what brought Marco to his doorstep.

"Jack, we need to talk," Marco said, his voice firm but laced with a hint of caution.

Jack's instincts screamed warning, but his curiosity got the better of him. He slid into the sedan, the leather seat creaking beneath his weight. Marco nodded to the driver, a hulking mass of muscle with a scruffy beard, who put the car in motion.

They glided through the city streets, the silence between them thick with tension. Jack's thoughts drifted to his past, to the life he left behind. He had made a promise to Sarah, to leave the Mafia and its violence behind. What could Marco possibly want that would disrupt his quiet life?

The sedan turned onto a side street, stopping in front of a nondescript warehouse. Marco gestured for Jack to follow him, leading him into the dimly lit interior. The air inside reeked of mildew and decay.

A figure emerged from the shadows, his presence commanding attention. Jack's old boss, Donatello Morano, stood before him, his eyes piercing with a mixture of sadness and determination.

"Jack, I'm glad you came," Donatello said, his voice gravelly from years of cigar smoke.

Jack's instincts told him to run, but his legs seemed rooted to the spot. He knew that look in Donatello's eyes, the same look that had sent him on countless missions, missions that left scars on his soul.

"What is this, Donatello?" Jack asked, his voice firm, trying to hide the trepidation creeping up his spine.

Donatello's expression turned grim, his eyes clouding with a mixture of anger and worry. "We have a problem, Jack. A big one."

Jack's mind raced, wondering what could have brought him out of retirement. He had left the Mafia, left the violence and the bloodshed behind.

"Victor Conti has declared war on our family," Donatello spat, his voice venomous.