Inside the office, William looked at the uninvited guest with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. He had heard of the man, though not through his own channels—he'd picked up the name from his brother: a New York mob boss, businessman, and union branch president. The reason for the meeting was obvious on the surface—"investment promotion"—but William didn't buy it for a second. Nobody like that walks into a Senate office just to talk about civic development.
"Mr. Bulger," Luca greeted him with a warm smile, shaking his hand before taking a seat across the desk.
William kept things strictly professional at first, exchanging a few polite lines before cutting to the point. "Mr. Greco, are you interested in investing in South Boston?"
South Boston was William's district. Luca didn't jump straight into specifics or try to inflate expectations. Instead, he outlined a plan to open a chain of gas stations, casually tying it to his role as president of the truck drivers' union, then pivoted into freight safety regulations in Boston.
"My drivers have been running into trouble lately. Regulations are so tight they can't even deliver on time," Luca said, elaborating at length before finally landing his point. "I'd appreciate it if the legislature paid a little more attention to working-class truck drivers. When you're pushing policies like cross-district school busing, why not give the same consideration to the people actually keeping goods moving?"
The "school bus situation" had been a political mess. Forced busing between districts was supposed to reduce segregation, but it sparked fierce backlash—especially among Irish-American communities in South Boston—while Black communities largely supported it. The result? Violent clashes, especially in schools. Campus incidents tripled. Thousands of racially charged confrontations. School buses getting attacked like they were armored convoys in a war zone.
And that chaos was just one piece of the bigger picture. The South Side was already a powder keg, and the gang war only made things worse. Policies dreamed up in quiet offices had turned into street-level conflict.
Luca didn't pretend to understand every backroom deal behind it all, but one thing was clear—the people at the top didn't want this to spiral any further. If it escalated into mass casualties, especially involving schools, it would become a political disaster.
William's mood soured as the topic came up. He'd already asked his brother to cool things down in the South. If public pressure kept building, any one of the hundred-plus legislators could push for action against him. The South was his home base, and while he had support, it wasn't unconditional. The memory of the Detroit riots was still hanging in the air—political careers had ended over that.
Luca added quietly, "And with things the way they are, it's getting harder for people like me to do business. I don't want my trucks getting hijacked out there."
William paused. That word—hijacked—hit a nerve.
There had been rumors that a tanker truck incident had triggered chaos elsewhere before. He leaned back slowly, studying Luca with renewed interest. "If you want protection, you should go to law enforcement. That's not our department."
"Of course," Luca replied, leaning in slightly, lowering his voice. "And the police would love to see peace restored too. I'm more than willing to mediate. But right now, nobody trusts anyone. So I'm asking you—what do you think it would take to make peace happen? Maybe… your brother stepping back a little?"
William's eyes sharpened. Now he understood. Anyone who knew Boston knew about his connection to his brother. Some people depended on that connection. Others tried to weaponize it.
"I don't know what James is doing," William said evenly.
Luca spread his hands. "The South is a war zone—dozens, maybe hundreds dead—and yet your brother and the Killen Gang are still standing strong. I hear he's practically running the place now. Seems like things are going pretty well for him."
William smiled faintly. If this had been an FBI agent or a cop, he'd have assumed it was an interrogation tactic. But Luca was a mob boss. Different game entirely.
"Sounds like you've done your homework," William replied. "But his affairs have nothing to do with me."
Luca didn't press. Instead, he shifted gears, laying out the broader situation in Boston.
"The FBI is already watching the North Side. The Angiulo family teamed up with the Russians and started pushing into the gas business. That was my market. Now they're sneaking in like rats, stealing from my table."
"I don't control the North Side," William said calmly.
"And your brother?" Luca continued. "He's got ties there too. I hear they're eyeing casinos and vending operations right under federal scrutiny. That's a risky move."
That one landed. William couldn't help the flicker of concern.
"And me?" Luca smiled. "I can bring peace to the South. The Anguilo family, the Russians—they're not my priority. The war has gone too far. It needs to stop. So tell me, Mr. Bulger—do you want a stable South… or a battlefield? For your voters. For your brother."
William forced a smile. "So this is your 'investment proposal'?"
"Why not?" Luca said lightly. "Everyone needs allies. You, your brother, me—nobody climbs alone. If you're unsure, I can talk to your leadership. But opportunities like this don't come twice."
William's smile faded.
He might be close to the majority leader, but he was still just an assistant—and assistants who don't aim higher don't stay relevant for long.
After a moment, he asked, "Can you really end the war in the South?"
"I can even help you resolve the school bus crisis," Luca replied with a faint grin. "If you and your brother are willing to work with me."
Then he slid a business card across the desk.
"To show good faith, I'm prepared to make a donation—through the truck drivers' union—to support your committee. Perfectly legal. And next time freight regulations come up, maybe the people doing the hauling get a fair deal."
It wasn't a bribe. Not officially. Just a "donation."
As for the amount… that depended entirely on how sincere the Bulger brothers wanted to be.
They talked for a long time before Luca finally stood and left.
William picked up the card, studying it. A mob boss. A union leader. A man controlling hundreds of millions in fuel distribution. In Boston, that kind of power didn't go unnoticed.
So why me?
The answer was obvious. His brother.
Outside the State House, Luca got into the car and leaned back, closing his eyes as he mentally reviewed the power structure of the Massachusetts Senate—faces from news broadcasts, speeches, public appearances. Their official personas were easy to find. What they did behind closed doors? That was another story.
Still, it didn't matter.
If William was destined to rise, then he had already been building toward it for years—stockpiling leverage, gathering dirt, preparing alliances. Politics wasn't cleaner than organized crime. It just wore a nicer suit.
Smear campaigns. Media manipulation. Backroom deals. Same game, different rules.
"Dove, where to?" Brian asked from the driver's seat.
"South Boston," Luca said calmly. "Time to help them… reorganize."
That evening, the Bulger family gathered for dinner. Afterward, the two brothers spoke privately.
"Mediate the war?" White Hair frowned. "Not happening. Not yet. Everyone's out for blood. This ends when someone wins."
William thought for a moment. "Do you have ties to the Anguilo family?"
White Hair shot him a look. "Did the Dove tell you that too?"
"He knows more than we thought."
Whitey's expression darkened. He had kept those dealings quiet. Or at least, he thought he had.
As a master double agent, he constantly shifted between alliances—partnering, betraying, repositioning. His plan had been simple: let the South burn, then step in with the Angelo family to "restore order," while quietly eliminating rivals in the Winter Hill Gang and securing his own rise.
Now Luca had stepped into the middle of the board.
Didn't that guy say he only cared about business?
"The Anguilo family or Luca," William said firmly. "We can't play both sides. Luca has backing from multiple New York families. He's stronger. We have to choose."
Whitey's face remained unreadable. The truth was, Luca being too strong was exactly the problem. There was no room to grow under someone like that.
"What does he actually want?" he asked.
William didn't hesitate.
"He wants to unify every Irish gang in the South—but without a bloodbath. A merger. One organization. And he says… he'll help you rise to the top of it."
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