A fuck up is a warehouse being found, but this was deliberate. The amount of money we’d just lost was a heavy blow. First, the warehouse with the drugs, and now this.

“Who was under Benjamin?” Gin asked.

Two men stepped forward. “We were.”

Benito put his gun away. “The rest of you clean this shit up. You two, let’s have a chat.”

They nodded and followed my brother. I caught Benito’s gaze and knew to follow behind them. Gin stayed to oversee the cleanup. We wove through countless shipping crates, some belonging to other families. The two in front of me glanced around nervously.

“I wouldn’t try it,” I said as the one on the right’s steps faltered. He glanced over his shoulder, and his eyes widened as if he noticed me for the first time. He audibly swallowed.

“Boss, we only did what Benjamin said. We don’t—”

“Good, then this will be a quick chat, and you can go home to your wives,” Benito said.

It was a lie. He wasn’t letting them out; they'd never see tomorrow’s sun. They’d fucked up, and they knew it.

“Really, boss. I’ve given my whole life to the Vitale family. The organization is all I have.”

I tuned out the guy’s pleas; it was falling on deaf ears. Benito gave his all to the family and what we’d built, but he didn’t tolerate anyone trying to fuck over our family.

The guy on the right twisted his body slightly and if I hadn’t been watching since the moment we walked away from the docks, I wouldn’t have noticed. As his buddy pleaded their case, he made a run for it.

“Don’t kill him,” Benito said.

I sighed as I chased after him, the cool New York air crashing against my face. My lungs burned with the frigid air sawing in and out of them as I gave chase.

He turned around with his gun in hand. He was making this harder for himself. I dove to the side just as he squeezed off two shots.

“I don’t know anything,” he shouted.

Then why are you running? I didn’t ask out loud; I’d get to question him later. I waited until I heard him running again before chasing after him. I climbed on top of one of the shipping crates, the ice-cold metal burning my hands as I crawled over the top.

My gaze swept over the area, and I spotted him, his head poking out around a corner, waiting for me to come around. His gun was trained on the spot I would have appeared if I was still on the ground.