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Chapter 1 - Louis
I lean out from behind the corner to get a better view of the men carrying boxes from our store, clench my jaw, and take the first shot. My bullet pierces the shoulder of the masked man closest to me, and he screams and latches onto the guy next to him. The other three immediately startle and yell at each other in Spanish, looking around and rushing in every direction like a swarm of ants.
“Get out of here!” I yell at them from behind the building and lean forward to aim again. No matter how much I despise the Mexicans, I know they have guns, and I don’t want to risk my life by walking out in the open.
I miss my second aim but, following my lead, Omero and Thomas open fire from their hideaway, and we wound another Mexican. They try to fire back, but it’s clear that they can't really aim at us—they don’t even know where we are. They just want to secure a cover while the rest of them grab what money they can and run to their cars.
Goddamn rats! Do you think you can get away so easily?
I tighten my grip on my gun and step out from behind the corner to better aim at them. My mind is focused, my heart is pounding with fury and adrenaline, and I shoot them without care. In less than a minute I kill one of them and wound at least two others, while Omero and Thomas take down another one.
The Mexicans hurry to drag their dead pawn into the car, but under our continuous fire they yell something in Spanish and drop the body, running to the car instead. So they're ready for a race, huh?
"Follow them!" I yell to Omero and Thomas, firing the last bullet at the Mexicans' rear windshield, and running to my own car parked on the curbside. Time to show these bastards who’s in charge here.
I jump into the car and take off, gripping the wheel tight. I'm not one to lose my patience easily, but the Mexicans have been too damn infuriating lately.
They think they're so clever, huh? When they raid our territories, they wear masks that hide their faces as if it'll stop us from recognizing those rats. Every last member of the Messina family—myfamily—knows who they are: pawns of the Escarra family who betrayed the truce between us. But stupidly enough, their coverage works. At least, Riccardo allows it to work.
Riccardo is the don of the Italian Mafia, the head of the Messina family, my cousin, and my best friend. I'm ready to obey him and trust him with my life, so when he tells us to keep the conflict with the Mexicans low, I can't go against him. All I can do is remind Riccardo time and time again that yielding to the Mexicans won’t do us any good.
The last time I confronted their boss, Gerardo Escarra, about his people raiding our storages, he only shrugged and said that I had to check my vision.Hispeople? Inourterritories? Impossible! He signed the truce to keep his daughter safe, so I must be stupid for thinking that he'd risk Jacinta for a piece of our possessions.
God, what a moron.
As if he doesn’t know that Paolo, my cousin, would rather kill us than let anyone touch his princess. He may have kidnapped Jacinta against her will at the beginning of their relationship, but ever since they got married Paolo has been pretty much obsessed with Jacinta and their daughter Luna. Which doesn’t make it easier for any of us to get along with his goddamn father-in-law.
Even thinking about Gerardo makes my blood boil, and I pick up the speed, keeping my glare on the Mexican car. They're playing it smart, escaping in the direction of Bridgeview—the closest neutral territory—instead of driving straight to their own.
Among other neutral places, Bridgeview is protected by the unspoken rule of the Mafia families of Chicago: no one is allowed to spill blood there. And unlike the Mexicans, we abide by the rules, so when we get there I'll have to let them be. But that doesn't mean that I can't grab my chance at killing these rats while they're onourland.
I scare a few pedestrians on sharp turns, but they should know better than to get in the way of my car. Living in the Messinas’ territory means staying out of our business, following our rules, and keeping their mouths shut. In exchange, they get to live under our protection, which is crucial for doing all kinds of dirty business in Chicago.
Other cars stay out of my way, pulling to the sides and keeping the road clear for me so I can get closer to the Mexicans. But as soon as I drive close enough, I see one of them emerge out of the passenger window with a gun in hand.Shit. This fucking—
I only have a second to brace myself before the Mexican fires at my car. His bullets ricochet off my hood and bumper, but when two of them reach the windshield, the bulletproof glass gives the first crack. Son of a bitch. I tighten my grip on the wheel and push the accelerator harder, catching up with the car.
I hear them yell something in Spanish, their car weaves in the lane, and a moment later more bullets pour onto the surface of my car. Shit. I clench my jaw with a heated wave of fury and adrenaline in my veins.Where is Omero?
The car vibrates dangerously, and the windshield turns into a spiderweb of cracks—but it doesn’t make me slow down. I know these streets like the back of my hand, so even with my vision obscured I manage to keep up with the Mexicans and bump into them from behind. Oh, if only I could get a little closer, I’d be able to hit them hard enough to make their car lose traction and send them off the road.
I guess they figure that out as well because I see their car pick up speed to the point that it drifts on the next crossroad—and all of a sudden, another car drives into their side from the other direction. It’s Omero catching up with us right on the border of our territories, and I can’t help but laugh from excitement. It’s the perfect timing!
The Mexicans weave to the right from the impact, and when I catch up from behind I see the driver’s panic in the frantic movements of the car. Yes,yes!
“Thomas, open fire!” I yell through the open window, keeping my bumper pressed to their car. A second later, I hear gunshots.
Omero’s car is close to mine, and the gun makes my ears ring for a moment. Shit. It forces me to slow down while I come back to my senses, but I keep my focus on the Mexican car. It’s bulletproof as well, but the vibrations from Thomas’ bullets make it shake.We’re so close to getting them, we’re so—
Suddenly, Thomas’ gun goes quiet, and from the corner of my eye I see their car slowing down. What the hell are they doing? It gives the Mexicans an open pass to get out of our trap, and they immediately speed up. Goddamnit!
I growl out loud and, as soon as my phone rings I pick it up. “What the fuck was that?!”
“Sorry, but we didn’t want to get everyone in trouble.”
What do you mean?I want to ask, but it dawns on me before I get even a word out. Shit. We’re already in Bridgeview, and I realize it just in time to slow down and come to a stop at a red light. Here, I can’t rely on the power of my family name to get away with every broken law.
I curse under my breath as I watch the Mexican car drive away. I see a flash of the bullet holes in its passenger door as it turns left and disappears from my sight. Goddamnit. We were so close to forcing them to crash or surrender, but now it’s too late. I don’t want to risk our status in neutral territory.
