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It’s almost respectable, almost.

He wants us to see him this time. He wants us to know before we die that it was him.

“Enzo!” He’s grinning. “You brought the old man! I was hoping. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this? Since before you even knew there was a fight.”

“You missed,” I call back. “You sent boys to my party for her, and they died on my floor.”

“I’m not missing today.”

He fires. I’m already moving, but the shot still nearly finds a place on my body that would put me down for good. It’s a hammer blow across my left shoulder that spins me half around, and I drop to one knee. The arm goes hot and useless, blood coming up fast under the ruined suit. It’s not center mass, so likely it’s an in-and-out. He got greedy, hoping for the kill shot, but his hands are probably shaking with glee and the round went wide.

But Carmine’s stepped into the gap. He does it without thinking. He steps up to cover me while I’m down, and Luca’s second shot hits him in the side.

I hear it. You can hear it when a round goes into a man. It’s a sound unlike anything else. Carmine grunts, the air rushing out of him. But he’s not down. He staggers, keeps firing, one hand pressed to his side and the other emptying the gun up the ramp, pushing Luca back behind cover.

“Carmine…”

“Move, Boss,” he says through his teeth. His skin is gray already, going grayer. “I’m not done yet. Move while he’s ducking.”

We get a stroke of luck, or the closest thing to it on a night like this. Headlights turn into the structure two levels down, probably some ordinary car, some poor bastard looking for an overpriced spot to park. The beams sweep up through the concrete, and behind them, I hear the wail of a siren somewhere outside. Can’t say if it’s coming here, but it’s close enough.

Luca can’t tell which either way. I glance up to see him do the math from behind his pillar, the witness, the siren, the fact that we’re minutes into this damn thing and still firing back at him.

“This isn’t finished!” he shouts down the ramp. “Tell your whore I said…”

Carmine fires in the direction of his voice and blows a chunk of concrete out of the pillar by his head. Whatever Luca was going to say, he doesn’t finish.

Then he’s gone, pulling back with his men through the upper level, unwilling to be here when the witness arrives. The gunfire stops as suddenly as it started, leaving a ringing in the air and the scent of blood, mine, and too much of Carmine’s.

“Up,” I tell him. “Come on. Lean on me. We’re going.” My left arm won’t take his weight, so I get my right shoulder under him. He’s heavy; he’s always been a big man, and now he’s a big man losing blood. I half carry him down the ramp toward the car as fast as his legs will move.

“Just a graze,” he lies. His hand is soaked where it presses his side. “Thirty years and this is the first time you’ve had to carry me. Don’t get used to it.”

“Shut up and walk, old man.”

I get him into the passenger seat, doing my best to hide my worry at his injury. Then I’m behind the wheel one-handed, the other arm dead weight. I pull the car out of the garage and into traffic before the sirens get close enough for me to tell if they’re for us.

We’re moving through the city with two bullet wounds between us and the knowledge that the war is on.

My phone’s ringing. I answer it on the dash speaker, because I need my one working hand for the wheel.

“Accardi.”

It’s Dellucci from the elders’ table, and I know before he speaks why he’s calling. News travels fast in this city; word of a shootout in a parking structure travels faster.

“I’m hearing things,” Dellucci says. “Northern Boulevard. Tell me they’re wrong.”

“They’re not wrong. Luca just tried to kill me and my consigliere in person. Carmine’s hit. I’m hit.” My voice is flat. “This is what you asked to wait and see. You’ve seen it. He’s declared himself in the open, with his own hand on the gun. Does the table move now, or does it need us actually dead first?”

A pause. I hear the old man’s breathing on the line. “You know it’s not that simple, Enzo.”

“It’s exactly that simple. It’s only complicated for men who’ve decided to be cowards and want company with them.”

“Careful, Enzo.”

“No, I’m done being careful. Careful is what got me and my oldest friend shot.” Carmine makes a sound that’s half protest, half laugh. “Here’s what happens now, Dellucci. And you can tell the others. I’m going to end this, my way, on my own. And when it’s over, when Luca Santini is finished and I’m the undisputed head of the Accardi family, I’ll convene another meeting and ask you to your faces why you didn’t help when you had the chance.”

I hang up before he can answer. It’s not how you talk to an elder, but I’ve stopped caring about the traditions, because there’s only one thing in my head now, past the pain and the blood and the war, and it’s the thing Luca started to say before Carmine shot the words out of the air.