Mafia: The City Of Lost Heaven -

The years were a blur of fine suits, expensive cigars, and the metallic tang of blood. Tommy enjoyed the life—the respect, the money, the feeling of finally being someone. But the Mafia’s foundation was built on "Omerta," a code of silence that was as fragile as glass.

That goal died the night two men jumped into his backseat with guns drawn. Mafia: The City of Lost Heaven

The rain slicked the cobblestones of Little Italy, turning the streetlights of 1930 into shimmering smears of yellow. leaned against his taxi, the engine ticking as it cooled. He was a simple man with a simple goal: survive the Depression. The years were a blur of fine suits,

"Friendship ain’t worth squat, Tom," Sam spat, bleeding out on the marble floor. "Don Salieri is the only thing that matters." That goal died the night two men jumped