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“I’m in Chicago. And I need your to help kill someone.”
This was a first. She never needed help in doing so before.
“Who?” It was already a given that I would.
“Emily McGlinchy, also known as Grams?”
I looked over to the woman I just finished complimenting in my mind. “When?”
“When and not why?” she asked. “She’s a friend of your family.”
“I have family, not friends.” I knew she would not be asking me to kill acquaintances for the fun of it. “When?”
“Tomorrow, the same factory you are at now, call her there tomorrow evening.”
“See you then.” I said nothing else and hung up. My eyes focused on the old woman as she pinched her great-granddaughter’s cheeks.
Depending on what Calliope told me, this could very well end up being a family massacre.
* * *
Calliope - AGE 25
Chicago, Illinois
Sunday, November 12th
“With great power comes great responsibility,” I said as I laid on the conveyor belt holding the book over my head. “It’s said so much now it sounds like a cliché, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think it sounds like cliché, I think it is officially considered a cliché.” Ethan entered the building from the side door, dressed in all black but not a full suit, just black button-down shirt and dress pants.
I thought about it for a moment then nodded, looking back to my book. “True.”
“It’s dangerous for you to be here.”
“It’s worth the risk. Besides, I went with black bangs this time, it makes me feel very Angelina Jolie in Salt, what do you to you think?” I flipped the page.
He was quiet, so I read.
“You’re pissed off.” He observed. “Why? What happened?”
I reached into my hair and took out my bobby pin sliding it between the pages as bookmark before getting off the belt. Marching over to him, I did my best not smack him. “You fucked up.”
“Excuse me—”
“You forgot everyone, everyone, hates the leader of the pack!” I snapped at him, but before he could speak, he grabbed my arm and pulled me under the conveyor belt as a wave of bullets flew into the factory, sparking as they clashed against the machines, then bouncing elsewhere. I crawled first under one of the machines towards my bag, grabbed it and rose under the crawl space.
“Are they after me or you?” he questioned, rolling up his sleeves.
“I thought my enemies were your enemies.” I unzipped the bag and pulled out a HK416 Airsoft AEG Rifle to hand him as well as a vest and a few magazines. “And here I was hoping the old hag would at least try to bullshit you before calling in her goons.”
“I can’t hear you over the gunfire and your annoyance,” he dared to say to me as he put the vest on and snapped the magazines in place. I was sure he could hear me perfectly fine. “Why don’t you let it off your chest now, la mia anima?”
“I’m saving your fucking life right now, or did you not notice?” I put the vest around my chest. “Old lady Grams was trying to pull a fast one, or a slow one depending on how you look at it. She’s been secretly supporting the Finnegan brothers taking you out while you’ve be working on the Moretti family and all those gathering to betray you the Italian side.”
“I see.” He ducked when another bullet hit the outside of the machine we were now hiding behind. “But that still doesn’t explain your annoyance.”
I glared at him and he stared blankly at me. I grabbed my machete and put it at my back, picking up another machine gun. “Do you know how hard it is to get a fucking day off as a mom? This was not how I planned my Sunday evening. I had a goddamn date.”
