Chapter 62
The reports were still on my desk when Alex walked in.
I had been staring at the same page for an hour, the words blurring together, my mind somewhere else entirely. Somewhere with her. Always with her. But I forced myself to focus. The thugs. The Eastside Crew. The problem I had been ignoring for too long.
"What is it?" I asked, not looking up.
Alex stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression carefully neutral. He had been with me long enough to know when I was in no mood for games.
"The Eastside Crew, they're getting bolder."
I leaned back in my chair. "Tell me."
"Since the Dons are not giving them any attention. They're going after the sons. They've been throwing parties. Every night. Inviting the young heirs, the sons of the Moretti and Bianchi families. Those who are addicted to drugs and already have no footing in the family inheritance.
They're trying to make them feel important, wining and dining them, acting like they're already part of the inner circle."
Alex shook his head. "They're celebrating a victory they haven't won yet. Walking around like they own the city."
I felt something cold settle in my chest. "They think their strategy is foolproof."
"They do." Alex paused. "They've been hitting the same bars, the same clubs. Flashing money, buying rounds, acting like they're untouchable. They don't even try to hide anymore."
That was the thing about men who had never been tested. They thought confidence was the same as power. They thought loudness was the same as strength. They had no idea how quickly that could all be taken away.
"Their next party," I said. "Where?"
"Tonight. A club on the west side. Private event, invitation only." He gave me the address.
I stood up and walked to the window. The city stretched out below me, grey and indifferent, full of people who had no idea what was coming. The Eastside Crew thought they were clever. They thought they were building alliances. They thought they were safe.
They were wrong.
"We act tonight." I said.
Alex nodded. He didn't ask questions. He didn't try to talk me out of it. He just nodded and left, closing the door behind him.
I turned away from the window and walked back to my desk. I opened the drawer and pulled out my gun, the weight of it familiar in my hand. It had been a while since I had used it. A while since I had let myself become the man I needed to be.
I checked the magazine, the barrel, the safety. Everything was in order.
Tonight, I would get rid of all the frustration. Tonight, I would remind the Eastside Crew exactly who they were dealing with. Tonight, I would show them what happened when you tried to climb too high, too fast, without earning your place. Without knowing your place.
I slid the gun into the holster at my waist and grabbed my jacket.
It was time.