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By now, we’re too deep in our territory to care about the police or gangs of stray criminals, so there’s nothing that can stop us. Louis knows it just as much and takes off without another word, but I understand his concern. After what just happened, I’m also not sure what to expect from the Mexicans—and that’s what pisses me off the most.

The Messina Clan has held the crown of Chicago for decades now, and yet the Escarra family thinks they can take it away so easily. As if we don’t have actually powerful enemies to deal with first. Or, well, I shouldn’t call them enemies now, should I?

“What’s the point of the whole alliance with the Russians if we still have to deal with those rats on our own?” Louis grumbles a few minutes later, seemingly without a thought—he’s fully focused on the road, so I doubt he expects an answer.

Besides, I don’t have anything to say to that. I am just as annoyed as he is.

You see, the Mexicans have been a pain in our ass for months now—they steal our supplies and weapons, claim our territories, and kill our people. They imagine themselves to be stronger than we are—but they don’t know what an honest confrontation is. They lose the moment they face us, so instead of fighting the Italians in the open, they trick, steal, and attack us from behind.

That was exactly what they did to the previous Don of the Messina Clan and my father, Cassio Messina. Instead of trying to defeat him in an open confrontation, the Mexicans sneaked up on Father and laid a bomb in a restaurant where he was waiting for my mother. My father, his guards, and many civilians were killed in the explosion—but the Mexicans still see it as a victory.

After Father’s death, my brother Riccardo took over his place and became the new Don of the Messina Clan and the king of Chicago’s underworld. Riccardo and the rest of my family swore to take revenge on the Mexicans and wipe every last one of them off our city’s streets—but it turned out to be harder than we imagined.

The Escarra gang wasn’t the only enemy we had to deal with. There was a wave of attacks from stray criminals who thought Cassio’s death would make us weaker, and our years-long conflict with the Russian Bratva had been stealing our strength for too long. We couldn’t keep up with our place on the throne, so my mother and Riccardo came up with a stupid but genius plan to form an alliance with the Russians.

Who on earth would think that marrying one of our former enemies was a good idea?

But in the end, it turned out that Riccardo and Elena’s marriage wasn’t entirely pointless.

Of course, at first, I couldn’t stand Pushkova and was against accepting her into our family. I mean, Elena had escaped her own family years ago! Who would trust a woman like that? And on top of that, she’d been careless enough to give birth to a son without a father. Yes, alright, later it turned out that Max was Riccardo’s son all along, but it didn’t change the fact that Elena couldn’t be trusted.

Well, Riccardo didn’t seem to share my thoughts—or anyone else’s, for that matter. He remained stubbornly confident in his desire to keep Elena by his side, and I have to admit that it paid off soon after.

The Mexicans were sneaking around our borders at the time, and as soon as Elena took Max out of our protection, they distracted her and kidnapped the boy. They’d been planning it for a while, and when we rushed to save him, the Mexicans ambushed us, only allowing Riccardo and Elena to pass through. We didn’t have enough of our men to fight back, and the Mexicans had a good chance to kill us all—if only the Russians didn’t show up.

Yes, the Bratva followed Elena’s call and came to save Max as well as help us get out of the Mexicans’ trap. Not that we wouldn’t have eventually won on our own. They simply saved us plenty of time which, in turn, saved Riccardo’s life—and that was a big deal.

I can’t say that our relationship with the Russian Bratva has turned into a friendship of any sort—we had been killing each other for years, after all. But the pure disdain and hatred that we used to nourish has given way to tolerance and even some sort of mutual respect…I guess. To be honest, I haven’t seen any of the Russians in weeks—all since Elena and Riccardo left for their long-awaited honeymoon. And that’s exactly what pisses me off.

The Russians have promised to beourallies, not only Riccardo’s—but it doesn’t seem like they’re eager to fulfill their part of the deal when I’m in charge.

So yes, while my dear older brother is enjoying the sunny beaches of California and the embrace of his Russian wife, I’m dealing with the mess the two of them left behind. But do you think anyone is going to acknowledge my efforts? Of course not. It’s only Riccardo who always gets to hold the crown—but trust me, not for long.

Even with the chilly autumn winds blowing right into our faces, Louis takes us to our main base rather quickly. It’s an abandoned warehouse in the heart of our territories, built on the bank of Little Calumet River and long forgotten by the city administration—or at least, that’s what we pay them for.

As we drive through the streets, we receive a few glances from scared civilians and curious prostitutes, but everyone in this neighborhood knows better than to bother us. The rumors are gonna spread like fire, though, and I curse under my breath, watching a group of druggies follow our car with dead eyes. Damn it. Perhaps I should’ve listened to Louis and called someone else to pick us up.

I can’t let our reputation go down because some half-alive dregs of society willassumethat we’ve lost in a fight. But they aren’t gonna talk about it for long. It won’t be the first time we have to get rid of someone who dares to speak against the Messina family.

But I feel anger building up in my chest as I think about it. The Mexicans have failed to kill us, but they still managed to spoil the rest of this goddamn day.

As soon as Louis drives into the parking lot behind the warehouse, I see my cousin Matteo and a few of our men rush out of the building. I get out of the car first and, before anyone speaks a word, point them to the passenger seat.

“Marco, Dante, take Hector to the doctors. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“What happened?” Matteo walks closer to me while the other two rush to follow my order. Louis gets out of the car as well, and as he closes the door a few pieces of windshield glass fall with a distinct clink.

“Fucking Mexicans happened.” I can’t help the furious note in my voice as I take out the suitcase with money and start toward the entrance of the warehouse.

“They laid another trap,” Louis pipes up as the two of them follow me inside. “Organized a fake work zone in the middle of I-94, and as soon as we slowed down they ambushed us. Hector barely got us out of there.”

Just listening to it makes anger spread through me in a heated wave, and I grab the suitcase tighter, walking up the stairs to the office. These bastards really think they can keep playing their dirty games without consequence, huh?

“Goddamnit. Are you serious?” Matteo’s voice is laced with concern, and I meet his gaze as soon as we pause in front of the office door. “Paolo, they’re going too far. I don’t care if Riccardo wants some rest, we need him here.”

“Do you think so?” I quirk an eyebrow, unable to hide my annoyance, and gesture for my cousins to come in before closing the door behind us. “Because Riccardo didn’t stop them from stealing Max and laying that ambush on the shore—and now, they think they’re strong enough to defeat us.”

“He killed Nicolas,” Louis says, but his frown says that it doesn’t sound convincing even to him. It only makes me chuckle.

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